


Up Close and Personal

by dontcallmebree



Series: Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bearded Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff kind of, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mob AU, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Modern Bucky Barnes, Personal Assistant Bucky, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, but surprisingly not that smutty tbh, sorta Slice of Life or timestamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27042604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontcallmebree/pseuds/dontcallmebree
Summary: Steve Rogers has better things to do than play Captain America for the public - so he doesn’t, much. What that gets him is Pepper hiring him a personal assistant, who turns out to be the guy he picked up not too long ago.Bucky is fucked. Thing is, he wants this job, and he would really like to work for the guy. He’s from Brooklyn, he knows who Rogers is. Stories of him back in the 30s were awe inspiring within the Brooklyn Irish, and his return had only proven them right. It’s a well known open secret that Steve Rogers got shit done before anyone shot him up with super steroids, at least on his side of the bridge.“You wanna be my personal assistant?” The sharp look is clear. This would be working for Steve, not Captain America.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022916
Comments: 96
Kudos: 522





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a somewhat self-indulgent Shrunkyclunks Mob AU because I love both of those things. Definitely owe this to all the amazing Stucky Mob AUs of the world, though this one isn’t meant to compare at all. It also was never meant to be as soft as it came out, but soft is what it is.
> 
> I’ve got all 7 chapters completely written so this will be regularly updated every few days. Hey, if anyone’s interested in betaing let me know, it’d be appreciated!

Steve is not pouting. He is _not_. He presses his fingers to his mouth just to make sure, though it’s half out of frustration too. 

He played this all wrong. His half-assed flaky attitude is supposed to make him unreliable for whatever Captain America bullshit is expected, from galas to the PR hoopla that’s such blatant propaganda they make his teeth ache. 

To his credit, it worked to an extent. He doesn’t do much, if any PR, attends only a few public events here and there, and his involvement as Captain America is pretty limited to fieldwork when shit _really_ goes down and the relevant authorities need the extra help from Avengers, which only happens once or twice a year. 

Ignoring the emails and calls to attend one black tie event or another as Captain America means no one expects him to show up to anything should they ask him to, and he only has to show his face every couple months or so. It was working perfectly. 

He has other things to worry about besides playing perfect soldier. His fingers tap impatiently against the wooden armrest, the ring making dull thuds at the contact. 

His inattentiveness, however, seems to have worked _too well_. Or maybe he just didn’t make it clear enough that not responding was his way of saying fuck off. 

Either way, Pepper decided that what he needs is a personal assistant, and insisted, _Why don’t you just meet them before making any decisions, it’ll make handling your correspondence so much easier,_ when he protested. 

The elevator dings from down the hall, and he gathers his wits to prepare for turning whoever it is down, and reassuring Pepper that the effort was appreciated, but unnecessary nonetheless. He means it, too. Pepper’s just trying to help. She’s incredibly smart and capable, and Steve would have liked her working for him were things different. Alas, she has her own empire to run in the form of Stark Industries. 

Pepper and the supposed personal assistant enter the laid back conference room soon after, and Steve fights not to let his brows fly up at the sight of the dark haired man. “Steve, let me introduce you to James Barnes,” Pepper starts off, clearly confident in her pick. “Mr. Barnes, this is Captain Rogers.”

Barnes blinks twice, obviously unaware of who he was supposed to work under, but quickly collects himself. Steve rises from his seat and purses his lips to tamp down on the amused smile, because just a few months ago, he had this very same man writhing under him in bed after picking him up at a club. 

From the recognition in his eyes, he’s sure they’re on the same page.

▽

◆

_Holy fuck._ Bucky is fucked. Well, he _was_ fucked, by this specimen in front of him not too long ago. He’d figured it out not long after Steve left that morning, with the clarity of sobriety and sore muscles. It wasn’t like he was too drunk to recognize Steve Rogers when he was dancing, more like he wasn’t really paying attention. Besides, Rogers doesn’t usually walk around announcing who he is anyway. With the beard and the lack of a public persona these days, no one really expects to run into Steve Rogers unless you’re in Brooklyn or you run in certain circles. 

But figure it out he did, and now he’s got to figure out how to play this. Thing is, he wants this job. He’s not exactly strapped for cash, it’s not really about that. If he doesn’t end up getting hired then he’ll apply elsewhere and it’ll be fine. He’s not worried. 

It’s the fact that it’s Steve Rogers, and he would _really_ like to work for the guy. He applied through Stark Industries, so he’s pretty sure this is more of a Captain America thing, but he wants in on the other guy. He’s from Brooklyn, he knows who Rogers is, grew up on stories about him. 

Forget about his legacy, in the past four years since he’s been back, Brooklyn has done better than ever. Gentrification’s slowing down, prices getting more and more reasonable, the demographic’s turning into what it used to be, and low level violent gangs are practically driven out. The Brooklyn Irish is doing better than it has in years, following the supposed detox of members Rogers deemed not up to his standards or morals or whatever it is he works by, when he came back with a Roshar family ring on his finger and started making moves that made waves. 

Everyone in Brooklyn knows who he is. Stories of him back in the 30s were awe inspiring within the Brooklyn Irish, and his return had only proven them right. It’s a well known open secret that Steve Rogers got shit done before anyone shot him up with super steroids and made him famous worldwide, at least on his side of the bridge. 

No one’s stupid enough to say anything, of course. If anyone found themselves lucky enough to live in the area, they wouldn’t shoot themselves in the foot by opening their mouth. 

Which is why Bucky needs to make the most of this bizarre encounter. He fucking loves Rogers’ work. 

And his body. That too. 

“James?” Steve quirks his eyebrow almost accusingly, hand stretched out in the offer of a handshake. 

Bucky colors immediately, remembering Steve groan _Bucky_ when he was fucking into him. He obviously thinks Bucky was a fake name or something. “I go by Bucky, actually,” he quickly corrects, taking the offered palm and sparing a glance at Pepper Potts, who’s taking out his resume and placing it on a nearby table. A barely there smile graces Steve’s face. “I’m from Brooklyn too, whole family’s always been from the area,” he says pointedly, and by the assessing look he gets in return, he’s sure the message got through.

“Steve, any questions? Take a look at his resume. This can really help you out if you give it a shot.” Pepper pushes the papers towards him. She warned him that the person he’d be assisting would be deciding whether or not they’d like the position filled, based on how this meeting goes, so he’s not surprised that the woman is still trying to convince Rogers. 

Steve’s eyes barely flick to the first page of his CV before peering back into Bucky’s. “You wanna be my personal assistant?” The sharp look is clear. This would be working for Steve, not Captain America. His mind briefly wonders if he’ll get to learn how to use a handgun if he gets this job. He’s honestly not sure, violence isn’t the number one go to tactic of the Roshars. The second go to, sure. 

“Yeah,” Bucky makes sure to sound as confident as he could, watching as Steve finally does pick up the resume and flip through it. “Got lotsa skills.” He swears Steve lets out a snort under his breath. 

Steve looks at him one more time, nods, then turns to his friend - colleague? - with a warm, “Thank you for helping with this Pepper, I’ll employ Bucky personally, no need for the Stark Industries payroll.” A genuine smile takes up his face as Pepper lights up.

“Oh, I’m so glad you changed your mind! Are you sure, though? This can easily be part of the Avengers expenses.” Pepper quickly turns to him with an apologetic, “Sorry to be discussing this right now, Bucky.” He appreciates that she paid attention to his preferred name and waves off her concern. 

“Really, no need for that, but I mean it, thank you for handling the search.” Steve brings Pepper in for a hug and cheek kisses before letting her go. “I’ll discuss the job with Bucky further. How about over lunch?” That heavy gaze is back on him, and he agrees, then they all troop back to the elevators. 

Steve and Pepper engage in small talk until they reach the lobby, where they all say their goodbyes and split off. “Deli okay?” Steve asks him, and Bucky is at once painfully aware that it’s just the two of them now, and will probably be for the foreseeable future. It’s pretty much the deal with being someone’s PA. 

◆

They drive to the deli in Steve’s car, the silence filled with classic rock pouring in through the speakers. Bucky’s not sure what he expected the guy to listen to, but he raises his eyebrow at the music. 

The deli’s all the way in Brooklyn, and they don’t talk until they’re seated and the food comes. The man running the place knows Steve well and greets him with familiarity, getting his meal ready before they even order. Steve must have signaled for something because Bucky gets served without a word as well. 

“Is there anything you don’t eat?” are the first words out of Steve’s mouth when he picks up his own sandwich. 

“Nah, this is good,” he examines what’s been placed in front of him. “I don’t keep kosher so,” he shrugs, and wrinkles his nose half in shame and half at the idea of making the effort. The only one in his family who kept kosher was his grandmother. The rest of them aren’t particularly religious. 

Steve laughs around his bite, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his shoulders shaking a little, finding some humor in the statement before adding, “Eh, neither do I.” And _that_ makes Bucky laugh because _duh_. Steve observes him before jumping in. “You really wanna work for me?”

“Thought I made that clear.” Bucky isn’t sure how to act with Steve. He’s kind of his boss, and he’s Steve fucking Rogers, but they slept together that one time and he remembers being playful and flirty, and if he’s going to be working for the guy and spending time with him more often than not, he’d like them to at least be friendly. 

He’s honestly not sure if he should be scared of Steve. Obviously he doesn’t want to do anything to get on his bad side, he’s not stupid, but he’s still figuring out this dynamic. It occurs to him that he wouldn’t mind sleeping with him again, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

Steve bobs his head like he’s thinking about it before asking, “Familiar with the work?”

Bucky makes a so-so motion with his hand. He wants _in_ , but he wants to be trusted. It’s Steve he wants to work with, not just the Roshars. “Know of it. Fast learner, though.” 

Steve hums, chews on the last bite in his hand, and swallows. “You’ll get it quick. One thing. Pepper wanted me to hire you so I’d respond and show up to more Captain America things.” He drags a plate of peach pie closer, and takes out a chunk topped with whipped cream. “So now it’s your job to make sure I still _don’t_ go to those.” Steve nudges the plate towards Bucky, in some gesture of sharing. There are ten plates of food on the table between them, and he’s only now realizing Steve is going to eat most if not all of them.

Bucky grins. “Easy as pie.” Steve flicks the whipped cream at him for the pun. 

◆

Turns out, they came to the deli for a reason. After wolfing down the unbelievable amount of food in front of him as they go though what Bucky’s job might involve - scheduling, talking to people for Steve, _avoiding_ talking to people for Steve, getting him some odds and ends, helping with paperwork, and whatever else comes up - they go through the back door and up some stairs. He pops his head into what must be some sort of apartment, greeting whoever’s on the other side of the door. 

“Rita here?” He gets a negative and some suggestions of where Steve should go, none of which Bucky catches because he realizes that Steve’s about to meet with Rita Ashe, head of the Roshars. He’s not sure why being around Steve isn’t making him sweat the same way as just the idea of meeting Rita Ashe is. Maybe having seen the guy come his brains out just really lessens how intimidating he is. Who knows? 

He’s stupid if he thought he wouldn’t be dealing with the woman though. Steve might be the most senior of the Roshars at this point, thanks to accidental cryogenic preservation and family lineage, but for all intents and purposes, Rita Ashe runs the Brooklyn Irish. Steve’s return never became a takeover, he just works side by side with her. He doesn’t even really handles anything specifically, as far as Bucky knows. Word is he helps oversee things, steps in here and there, more of an omnipresent silent head while Rita Ashe gets shit done.

Bucky wishes he can prepare better for this but really, what would he do? Probably work himself up to a tizzy and then freak out even more. They leave the deli and walk down the block, to a well kept house with a couple people on the porch. 

“We’ll be around here a lot,” Steve explains. “I’ll introduce you around, make sure you know everyone.” He catches Bucky’s eye meaningfully. “More important they know who you are.” Bucky nods, he gets it - he’ll be the guy people come to, to talk to Steve. He wonders if Steve’s been fielding things by himself so far.

A woman in her thirties speaks up when they walk up the steps. “You come to get your ass kicked again?” She motions to the chess board in front of her, mid-game with a kid who’s got his hands on either sides of his head in concentration. 

Steve scoffs, and flips her off. “Meet Bucky. This is Ayisha, and Pete.” He ruffles the hair on the kid, who ducks away a second too late with a huff, though not without a smile. 

Ayisha gives him a once over, and he does his best to smile and let her get a look at him. The whole day is probably going to be full of this kind of thing. “Hey,” she says shortly. Steve makes a questioning gesture towards the house and she nods, before turning back to the game. “Aw, come on!” Her king’s about to die. At a second glance, Bucky realizes that most of her pieces are gone and she’s been losing badly. That taunt at Steve must be some inside joke. 

Steve opens the door and makes sure he follows before he can listen to more of Ayisha’s protests at the turnout of the game. Inside is a collection of people scattered through out the living room and kitchen, where something cooking on the stove smells amazing. Steve keeps introducing him around whenever they encounter a new group of people, all of whom seem to be in good spirits and snacking on something. Steve isn’t shy to pinch whatever they’re having here and there, a couple people batting his hand away.

It’s a lot of _hey, this is Bucky, meet Bucky, name’s Bucky,_ but only a few people are introduced back to him. There’s Clara, who must be working on some sort of paper from what he can see of the books around her, a woman in her late thirties with the oddest combination of sweatpants and dark lipstick, with a pair of heels abandoned on the floor while her feet are tucked up. She can’t seem to be distracted from whatever’s on her laptop but spares him a warm smile. 

They find Dani in the kitchen, watching over whatever’s cooking and greeting Steve boisterously with what looks to be a powerful hug. “You should stick around for dinner, but only if you promise to only eat one plate.” Steve shoves him away, but pulls him back in with a grin. 

“Dani, you gotta meet Bucky,” Dani turns his attention on him, kind eyes and a less powerful but equally enthusiastic hug engulfing Bucky before he sees it coming. “Alright, alright, no need to suffocate him before he even does the rounds.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky says sincerely. “What are you cooking, smells amazing!” He’s starting to get that the people he gets names to must be Steve’s inner circle - the people dealing with whoever else needs Steve’s time before Bucky soon takes over. Or maybe Bucky will just be dealing with these people instead. Only time will tell. 

Either way, it’s a good idea to make nice. “Steve, the kid doesn’t know good Irish food, who the fuck did you bring here?” Dani exclaims with laughter. Bucky lifts an amused eyebrow at Steve’s eye roll. Dani appears to be in his late 40s, his own 24 almost half his age. He surprisingly doesn’t mind being referred to as kid. The man exudes warmth like no one else. 

Someone comes in through the side door talking into his phone, until he spots Steve and breaks into a grin. “Hey, I’ll call you back, okay?” He hangs up without waiting for a response and comes over to hug Steve in greeting, pushing Dani out of the way, who then grumbles in protest. “Hey man, good to see you.”

“You’re back in town!” Steve looks just as giddy to embrace his friend, and keeps his arm around him even after they separate. “Bucky, this is Sam.” Sam shakes his hand and gives him a bright smile, but he doesn’t miss the look sizing him up either. His eyes dart to Steve for an undecipherable second before coming back to him. 

“You meet everyone yet?” He shrugs Steve off and pours coffee into a couple mugs. 

Bucky shrugs, “Only some,” and is surprised to be handed the coffee. Sam silently offers a packet of sugar and cream and Bucky mixes them in. For a hot second he thinks about if he should be worried about getting poisoned but internally snorts at himself and sips at his drink. 

Steve guffaws as Sam starts in on his own coffee. “What, nothing for me?” Sam ignores him with a flick of his hand and takes over introducing him to the rest of the house, Steve following them around and saying hi to everyone they see. 

Sam takes his drink when they get to the back of the house, and puts both mugs away. Steve leads them to a door tucked in the back and knocks, opening it after a loud, “Yeah?”

Sam follows them into an office or study of some kind, where a woman in her late 50s is working at her desk. Steve swoops in and kisses her cheeks, and she’s just as affectionate towards him. The two talk quietly among themselves, and Bucky follows Sam’s lead and hangs back by the door. 

Steve eventually turns back to them, and the woman, who _holy fucking shit it’s Rita fucking Ashe_ , comes over with her hands in the pockets of her linen pants. “Bucky, is it?” 

Bucky wills himself to keep it together long enough to get through making a good first impression and not shove his foot in his mouth. “Bucky Barnes, it’s nice to meet you.” Fuck, should he have said honor? It’s an honor to meet you? Or pleasure! He’s got not clue and he’s hoping the panic isn’t clear in his eyes because Rita is clearly scrutinizing him. 

Steve’s back by his side and motioning something to Sam, who quickly leaves. “Pepper found him to be my PA.” It’s at this point that he realizes in all the introductions, not once did the words personal assistant leave Steve’s mouth. “Well, Captain America’s, but he’s going to work for me.” 

“Yeah? How’s that work?” Rita studies Steve, gears still clearly working in her head but turning softer just at the sight of him. 

Steve shrugs noncommittally with a, “Just did.” He then opens the door and reveals Sam standing just outside. “Come on, let’s get some food with the others. Even your ma didn’t hole up to work this hard.”

Rita rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You can’t invoke Ma’s name every time you want to make me do something.”

Steve grins unapologetically as they all file out. “I didn’t even _say_ her name. Besides, she was _my_ best friend, I can invoke her name if I want to.” Rita hits him on the arm and says hi to everyone they pass by, as they make their way outside. Clara and Dani have peeled away from their spots to trail after them, congregating on the porch as Rita talks to the kid they first met who Bucky thinks is named Pete. 

Steve motions for Bucky to follow him, and they walk back to the car just the two of them. “You good?” 

“Yeah, everyone seems nice.” Steve hums that non-answer of his. “Are we meeting more people?”

“Nah.” They duck into the car and make their way out of parallel park. “The others will take care of that soon.” Which is - okay. Word will spread, quickly, Bucky guesses. “We’re going out to eat.” Bucky can’t help but raise his eyebrows before he can stop it. Steve just laughs at his struggle to hide the expression. “Hey, do you drive?”

“Uh,” Bucky considers lying for half a second before finally admitting, “No.”

“We’ll take care of that, get you some classes and get your license. That okay? Just in case, it’s a good skill to have.” Steve glimpses over at him, and he nods, because yeah, fuck, he should get that straightened out if he needs to at some point drive for Steve’s errands. 

They pull up to the house, and Bucky moves to the back as everyone on the porch piles in, Rita up front. “Hey, Pete, come eat with us!” Steve calls out his window. Pete just waves him away and Steve sighs. “Remind me to bring something back for him.” 

Bucky isn’t sure who he’s talking to, but seeing as he’s Steve’s PA, he guesses it’s him. “Uh, sure.” Steve looks at him through the rearview mirror as they’re pulling away. Whoops, maybe not him. Doesn’t matter though, he’ll remind Steve anyway. Get into the habit of taking on whatever he can off of Steve’s plate. 

Bucky wonders if he’ll start carrying around a notebook.

◆

Early dinner was nice - that’s what Bucky’s decided to call it. It was such a weird time to go out to eat, but it does mean less of a crowd. Or maybe the restaurant made sure of that, now that he thinks about it. Some of the talk at the table he couldn’t make heads or tails of but he’s hoping to get the hang of things soon. Otherwise, they simply talked about their days.

Sam shared his trip to DC where he was staying the weekend with his boyfriend, and Clara complained about the research she was doing for her Phd. Bucky was put in the hot seat for a while as they got him to try all kinds of Irish food, as everyone joked around about initiating him in. 

Pete beams when they drop off dinner for him, still hanging out on the porch. 

The rest of the day gives him an idea of what he’s getting into. 

Steve takes him to get a new phone, puts him on his phone plan, and tells him to use it for work - and whatever else he wants to. “I just mean that’s the number you give people when they want to talk to you to get to me. Use it for your day to day to if you want that’s fine, you can get rid of your old phone or keep it.” 

Bucky just nods and sticks it in his pocket. He’s not going to say no to cutting his own phone bill, not when Steve genuinely sounds like he doesn’t care about whatever long distance calls Bucky might make. The idea of calling 1-900 numbers just to fuck with him makes him giggle and Steve stares like he knows what he’s thinking, looking both amused and exasperated. 

Steve tells him to schedule his driving lessons with his phone, and that he’ll take care of the license once Bucky gets the hang of things. He makes the call and Steve hands him a credit card. At the grocery store, he tells him what he likes to eat and what brand, and they shop for what looks like a month’s worth of food but Steve tells him is just for the week. 

“Oh, to be blessed by magic steroids,” Bucky sighs dramatically as he puts a third pint of ice cream into the cart, and Steve throws a bag of peas in his face, which he only just catches. 

They pay with the same card and Steve tells him to hold on to it for the time being, until he gets Bucky one for good once he gets it from the bank. Bucky blinks and goes with it. 

Steve’s place is a house of a decent size, with a mismatch of new and old furniture, and a gleaming kitchen. The rest of the house is crammed with a flurry of things. It’s not messy, it’s actually extremely organized, but it’s not what Bucky expected. 

Canvases lean against the walls three or four deep, its contents hidden away with just the wooden backs in view or entirely covered by drop cloths. Piles of books fill bookcases and many are just stacked on the floor, and a flatscreen TV shares space with a radio and a record player. Sketches and pictures fill the walls, in and out of frames. A couple layers of area rugs cover the wooden floor, making the home feel cozy and warm. 

Bucky tries to glean what he can of Steve’s personality from his space. 

The two of them lug the groceries inside in multiple trips and put them away. “Are you okay with doing weekly groceries? I’m not gonna ask you to clean and cook or nothing, but buying all this stuff so often is actually a pretty big errand.” Steve almost looks sheepish as he asks.

Bucky wants to furrow his eyebrows at that cause he honestly doesn’t mind having to cook, maybe even tidy up a little, but he gets that Steve doesn’t seem to need him for that - or at least it’s not the kind of job Steve’s got in mind for him. “Yeah, of course. Just let me know when you want to add something out of the usual stuff for me to get.”

Steve looks so grateful Bucky has the sudden urge to pat him on the head. “I will! Oh, and get whatever you want, too, whatever you might wanna eat while you’re around.” Bucky’s starting to see so many fucking perks to this job. Steve shows him around, the open plan kitchen and living room, the office, guest bedroom and bathroom, a studio, and a closed door to the master bedroom. “You don’t really have to worry about remembering where anything is, except to find me if you need to.” He points to the upstairs but tells him it’s pretty much empty and used for storage.

Steve walks him through the kitchen, then points out the cabinet full of liquor bottles with unrecognizable labels. “This is my alcohol, but don’t drink it, they’re engineered for my metabolism. You will literally die if you swipe this.” Okay, that explains that. “The human drinks are over there,” he points to a bar across the kitchen. “You can have whatever you want from there.”

“Pft, human drinks? And what are you?” It was supposed to be a joke, not a stumper, but Steve’s shoulders tighten with tension and Bucky internally winces. He wants to say something to make it better, but nothing’s coming out, and Steve beats him to it by asking him to help make stir fry.

Bucky helps him chop some stuff but mostly watches him cook. “So, I’m probably gonna need you for some weekends, is that okay? You can have those days made up with whatever day off you need, but sometimes I’ll need you on a Saturday or whatever.” He keeps stealing glances at Bucky and being completely transparent about it. Bucky truly can’t tell if Steve thinks he’s being sneaky or if he’s just not trying to hide it. 

“I figured,” Bucky shrugs. 

Steve raises his eyebrows a little, and adds, “Not cutting into your nights out?” Bucky lets out a burst of laughter, and gives Steve such a knowing look that the man puts all of his focus into plating the food. 

“I’ll manage,” is what Bucky says, instead of the hundreds of inappropriate things he wants to say. It’s the closest either of them come to bringing up the night they slept together. They’re not exactly tiptoeing around it. They both remember it happened, and obviously that’s why Steve gave him a second of his time when Pepper first brought him in. Bucky’s not sure what he could possibly say - remember that time we fucked and it was great, let’s do it again? Probably not. 

Steve hands him a plate of delicious looking stir fry, and it pains Bucky to say, but he gets out, “Steve, this is like the third meal we’ve had today, I don’t think I can eat this.” Steve just laughs and grabs a to go container, lobbing it at him across the island. 

They spend second dinner - maybe Steve’s secretly a hobbit? - talking logistics, and setting up Bucky’s phone and all the apps with Steve’s credit card. Steve gives him a MetroCard for the subway, and he goes home with a job and stir fry to go. 

This day is almost as weird as that time he went home with a guy and later realized it was Steve Rogers. 

◆

△

It’s 30 minutes after Bucky leaves before Steve gets the call. He groans as Sam’s name flashes across his screen. He flops onto the couch, making himself comfortable, and finally picks up.

“So,” Sam says in lieu of a hello. Steve waits him out as he flicks on the TV, putting it on low while he channel surfs. Finally, Sam sighs. “Bucky was nice.” Straight to the point, then. 

“Yeah, I told you Pepper wanted to give me a PA.” Steve settles on a sitcom rerun and tries to guess what decade it was made in. He sees big hair and patterns.

“Mm-hmm, thought you were gonna turn her down.” 

Steve shrugs as if Sam can see him, though he’s sure he can tell just by way of knowing him so well. “He’s supposed to help me with Captain America stuff but I hired him to actually help me out instead.” Steve can already hear the coming _why?_ so he heads it off. “He mentioned he was from Brooklyn, family in the neighborhood for a while, wanted to work for me. His resume was pretty good too.”

“Is that it?” Steve isn’t quite sure what Sam knows, but he definitely caught the eyeful he got when he met Bucky. He just doesn’t know if it was a _this guy is so your type_ , or _didn’t you pick him up a couple months back when we went to that one club?_

Apparently all Steve can come up with is, “Uh,” and the silence coming from Sam is so pointed that he ends up telling him everything there is to tell. Mainly all about the night he spent with Bucky and the time spent with him today. Sam asks him what he wants out of this, and Steve very eloquently mumbles, “Dunno.”

Maybe he should’ve just turned down the PA thing and asked Bucky out instead, but having someone assist him that isn’t Clara or Dani or even Sam would help him out a lot, though he can see the pitfalls of having that guy be someone he once slept with and arguably would like to sleep with again. 

Well, that’s for future Steve to worry about - and maybe Sam. Definitely something for Sam to worry about. Bucky is just somehow comfortable for Steve to be around and be himself, he’s relaxed and fun to mess around with, and they clicked pretty quickly. After the background check Dani did today while they were driving to the deli and then eating, and finding a record of loyalty from the Barneses, Steve’s not worried. He’s always trusted his own judgement and he can already tell Bucky’s going to be great.

Anyone he lets himself be personally acquainted with, especially with the Roshars, needs to be someone he trusts and actually likes having around. 

Bucky’s all of that in an insanely good looking package. Not to mention the _good looking package_. But that’s not what he’s there for, so Steve pretends that didn’t occur to him. He eats more food and talks with Sam on speaker just hanging out, until it’s time to try to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve got any thoughts, would love to hear comments and talk about some stuff!
> 
> I’ve got all 7 chapters completely written so this will be regularly updated every few days. Hey, if anyone’s interested in betaing let me know, it’d be appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who checked out this story, hope you stick with it.
> 
> Special thanks to beta Meraki_Moli on this chapter! She cleaned it up and made it much better than my tired eyes ever could when going over this chapter for the umpteenth time.

It’s a month into being Steve’s PA - or whatever his job title is, they never say personal assistant, Steve always just refers to him as Bucky - and he’s fielded Pepper’s and others’ requests for Captain America work countless times. He’s the one dealing with the email they gave Steve for Captain America, which he always ignored and now continues to pretend doesn’t exist, except now Pepper _knows_ it’s Bucky’s literal job to deal with those correspondences. She just doesn’t know it’s his job to make sure they never get to Steve. 

He thinks he’s doing pretty well. He’s perfected the art of turning down Pepper, Stark Industries, the Avengers, and everyone in the media who wants a piece of Steve, not to mention people to do with the Roshars. Of course, with that last one, the important part’s figuring out who and which requests actually need to get to Steve. 

He asks Sam sometimes, or Dani, or Clara, all of whom he’s taken a liking to. They’re nice and helpful, and Bucky was right: they’re the inner circle. Each of them seem to hold multiple jobs in the Roshars, all of which sound complicated and sometimes dangerous. Bucky keeps having to remind himself that they can do all kinds of unimaginable things to him when they’re joking around and laughing together, though, really, they’re exactly who you want for friends.

He spends most days with Steve and the rest of them, sometimes with Rita too, who he’s gotten used to being around. She and Steve are extremely close, more like family than anything else, especially with Rita being Steve’s best friend’s daughter. Though sometimes it’s unclear if their relationship is more like Rita is Steve’s pseudo niece or like Steve is Rita’s pseudo nephew. It’s all very confusing. 

Dinner with Steve becomes more of a regular thing - all meals with Steve, really, he’s more often eating than not - with or without his low-key entourage. A lot of his weekends are spent working as well, but he doesn’t mind hanging out with everyone, Sam being the one around Steve the most. Bucky caught on pretty quick that he’s Steve’s second. 

His job, while pretty much a dream so far, freaks Becca out. He’s driving her shitty car _because he has a fucking license, fuck yeah_ and Becca’s freaking out at him from the passenger seat. It’s one of his rare days off and they’re headed to the beach. “It’s going to get dangerous, Bucky!” Becca’s practically screeching. Okay, she isn’t, but it’s close. 

Bucky sighs in exasperation, because this is like the tenth time they’ve had this discussion. “Not the way you’re thinking, Becs, I swear, it’s all good.” He tries for a reassuring pat to her shoulder, but gets the stink eye instead. 

“You’re _in the mob_ , Bucky,” Becca hisses. Bucky opens his mouth to vehemently deny it but, well, she’s technically not wrong. He just never really realized it. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Still, there’s no panic building up and he _likes_ his job. The Roshars help the community, Steve treats him well, and he’s not doing anything he personally has an issue with. The shady shit he’s seen - and hasn’t seen - he’s all on board for. 

It’s not like they didn’t grow up around the Roshars. They were helpful back then too, and the Barneses have always done what they could to help people in the neighborhood. Something suddenly occurs to him. “Becs,” he starts, but doesn’t know how to go about this. Taking a deep breath, he tries again. “You know Ma did some jobs for them right?”

Becca whips around to face him, “What?!” 

Okay, so Becca _didn’t_ know about that. “Nothing bad! Just small jobs here and there.”

“Like what?!” Becca’s fully turned bodily towards him now, and he can’t believe his sister never knew about this. She’s only a year younger than him, so he assumed that when he caught on to Ma’s occasional job so did Becca. 

“I don’t know! I just know that’s how she’d get some of our money and she helped them out and they helped us out,” Bucky shrugs, because that’s really all he knows. “She wasn’t really, like, part of the Roshars or anything- well, technically I guess, but nothing serious!”

Becca is shaking her head in disbelief, but he knows she doesn’t actually have a problem with it. Becca’s thoughts on the Brooklyn Irish are pretty much the same as his, especially with everything thats’s happened in the last few years. She’s been able to find a place to rent in Brooklyn, even - with a roommate, sure, but still. 

“Okay, well,” she huffs, wriggling around in her seat to find a comfortable position. “ _You’re_ way more involved now than mom ever was. You’re with the higher ups!” Bucky would deny it, and he does roll his eyes, but she’s kind of right. His job’s with people of the inner circle, and he doesn’t know how the fuck he got there. “You work with Steve fucking Rogers!”

“Well, we fucking love Steve fucking Rogers, Becs!” He’s honestly not sure where this conversation is going anymore. Becca isn’t trying to get him to quit or anything, that much he’s pretty sure of, and even if she is, it’s not happening. He really does like his job. 

“You work too much,” Becca focuses on instead, which Bucky appreciates. He’s kind of over discussing the Roshars. 

“It’s a lot of days but not that many hours, I swear,” he promises. He’s seen Becca less in the past month, and he’s not happy about it either. “Hey, let’s do breakfast so we can hang out more, I usually don’t have to come in until noon if I’m not at work all day.”

Becca looks at him sidelong. “Really?” Her hopeful tone of voice breaks his heart a little, he wishes he’d realized how much she missed him. Is that what this is all about? Just how much time he’s spent at work and not the kind of work he’s doing at all?

“Yeah, Becs, seriously. I miss you; we’ll do breakfast whenever our schedules let us.” Becca is beaming at him, and he hopes he gets a couple days this coming week at least to make good on the promise. Becca’s a grad student, so a lot of her mornings are free. 

“When we’ve got some time off, we should have Alice visit, it’s been so long,” Becca floats the idea. Alice is their youngest sister, a freshman on scholarship in Boston. The three of them Skype pretty regularly but they haven’t been together in person in a while. They’re all they have in terms of family; Ma having passed away when Bucky was still in college, and his dad passing when they were all still really young. The Barnes siblings have always been pretty tight knit. 

“Yeah, definitely, I’ll ask about a long weekend off, how about that?” Bucky’s actually pretty excited, he misses Alice like a lost limb. He practically raised her, and knowing she’s so far away all the time has been a low, constant hum of pain in his sternum ever since she first left. He knows Becca feels the same. 

“Have you told her about your job yet?” Bucky groans, and pulls into their destination. 

“Hey, look we’re here!” He exclaims in a blatant change of subject, and Becca pulls out her phone to call her roommate, Darcy. They’re meeting her and her best friend, Jane. Bucky loves Darcy, they hang out whenever Bucky’s at his sister’s place, and go out sometimes, all three of them, and Jane joins them too here and there. He was actually with Darcy the night he met Steve and took him home. He wonders when it’d be okay to tell that story because it’d be pretty great and kind of funny. Never, probably. He’s pretty sure Dani and Clara don’t even know, though Sam gives him these looks sometimes like he does. 

Whatever, he’ll sit on that gem until he’s 80 and he’ll whip out the story of how one time in his twenties Steve Rogers fucked him into oblivion. He’s probably going to traumatize Becca and Alice’s grandchildren.

◆

“Steve!” Bucky pushes open the door with his elbow and drops the two grocery store bags gently. “Stevie, honey, I’m home!” He snickers as he says it. He loves coming up with new cliched things to say every time he comes in from grocery shopping. Mostly because they annoy Steve. 

Steve comes barreling in, presumably from his studio, with his paint splattered clothes and hands. “Will you cut that out?” he grumbles, just like every time Bucky’s come in lugging groceries and pretending to be a spouse in need. 

Between the two of them, the food’s taken in and put away in fifteen minutes, which is great, because Steve is meticulous about where to put his things and there’s always a shit ton of stuff.

Steve gets started on whatever food he’s cooking, and Bucky settles at the island with his laptop and phone to get some work done. This is a lot of what he does: watching Steve cook and sampling his surprisingly tasty concoctions, sending emails and making phone calls; reminding Steve what he has to do for the day. 

He scrolls through the new batch of Captain America emails, ignoring the ones that don’t warrant a response, and constructing a polite but firm no to the ones that do. Some of the things people reach out to Steve for are ridiculous. Don’t they know him at all? Or even realize how pointless it is to ask, given he barely ever makes a public appearance as his 40s stage persona? Going down the list, he makes some quick replies and invents various ways to say fuck off. 

“You know you talk to yourself when you do those?” Steve looks at him through the steam of whatever’s on the stove, taking out the spatula and resting it on the edge of the pan. A blush rises onto his cheeks, wondering what else he’s said under his breath that he never realized he was saying out loud. “It’s cute.”

Bucky barely gets the chance to think of a response before Steve’s asking him about what they have coming up. Bucky clicks out of the Captain America stuff and goes to Steve’s actual work, filling him in on some Roshars business he needs to deal with, and taking down notes on what Steve tells him to tell a few people on his own by phone. 

“I’ll call Sam and Clara over here and we’ll deal with some of this, you go ahead and make those calls.” Steve grabs his own phone and digs through a drawer to get his cigarettes and lighter, heading for the backdoor. 

“Not going over to the house today?” Bucky calls after him, getting a muffled “Nah,” through the glass door as it closes behind Steve. He makes his calls, all of which get picked up a couple rings in when they see that it’s Bucky calling. He makes nice with the Roshars, gets some things straightened out, and is wrapped up by the time Steve comes back and serves him… he’s not sure what.

“All good?” Steve settles in with his own food, and digs in.

“Yeah,” he says through his first bite, something sweet and kind of sticky, with hints of coconut and a thick sauce of some kind. It’s weird looking, but really good. “Daniels needs to see you, though. Or Rita.” He must make a face as he shoves in another mouthful of food, because Steve slides over a glass of water, which he gratefully downs. 

“The thing with last month’s shipment?” Bucky hums in the affirmative, and Steve chews on the inside of his cheek for a while before deciding: “Ask Rita to meet with him; it’s fine if she wants me there but I don’t think she’ll need me. Make sure it’s sometime this week.”

Rita’s a bit more difficult to get a hold of by phone, though apparently, she still takes his calls more regularly than anyone else’s because she knows it’s coming from Steve. Still, unless Steve calls her himself, it’s not a guarantee that she picks up. 

“I’ll head over and ask,” Bucky slides off the stool, and gets ready to walk over to the house where Rita is most days. That or the deli, both of which are walking distance from Steve’s house. 

“Oh hey, drop this off while you’re there,” Steve hands him a giant food container, and as always, another smaller one with _PETE_ written on top in black marker. 

“You know, I’m starting to think that you need to get a mountain of groceries every week because you keep feeding like twenty other people instead of your so called magic metabolism,” he notes, only half joking. Steve sends food over to the house all the time, and makes sure porch kid gets his fair share.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Steve says dryly. “My giving and generous nature must really be stopped; it’s causing this awful abundance of food.”

Bucky narrows his eyes as he backs away towards the door. “Well it sure ain’t your humility.” He escapes before Steve can retaliate. 

◆

When he gets back, Steve’s cooking something else altogether, and the previous dish is nowhere to be seen. He eyes the fridge, wondering if it’s put away or if Steve really shoveled all of it down his throat while Bucky was gone. 

“Rita’s meeting with Daniels day after tomorrow, said you won’t have to be there but she’ll let you know how it shakes out. If it’s not settled there’s some people you should call.” That’s what Rita had said, exactly, _‘Some people you should call’_ , and the way she said it, he’s sure he’s supposed to relay the message word for word. 

Steve doesn’t say anything for a minute, then finally turns to him. “Remind me on the day.”

Bucky makes a quick note, in his personal code that he always writes in, though you can’t really tell much of what’s going on even if you _can_ read his notes. Still, it gives him peace of mind that he’s not a walking vault of secrets for the Roshars and Steve. Well, he kind of is, but none of his physical possessions are, strictly speaking. 

“Anything happening at the house?” Steve’s turned the heat down on the stove, and put the lid back on the pot. He nibbles on another bizarre looking snack on a plate between them, and Bucky scrunches his nose but tries it anyway. 

“Not much, Dani’s working on the Tesson project today, and he’s got a couple of his guys over there to help.” Bucky thinks over everything he saw not fifteen minutes ago, as they continue to demolish the weird, yet delicious, salty goop Steve is subjecting them too. Bucky doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop eating Steve’s food - not that he’d want to. “Pete is playing against Ayisha and Rae.”

That makes Steve laugh, the kind that makes his eyes shine with youthful exuberance and moves with his body. “Two against one, and he’s still gonna kill it.” The way he talks about porch kid sometimes, makes him sound like a proud father and it makes Bucky’s chest all tight and squirmy. Ugh. 

“Oh, you got a call from Clint Barton and Bruce Banner, Clint’s asking about a dinner thing at Stark Tower, and Bruce is asking to… borrow a book?” He’s not sure if that’s a euphemism for something, or some kind of code. 

Steve doesn’t hang out much with his Avengers team, apparently sees them at the once in a blue moon event, and maybe once every couple months in a more private setting. Of course, there’s also the once or twice a year they work together curbing some kind of disaster, not that that’s happened yet since Bucky’s started this job. 

Steve laughs at him, and quickly swallows down his mouthful. “Bruce actually is talking about a book.” He gets up and walks over to a corner, and rummages around for whatever it is he’s looking for. “Tell Clint I’ll see him at the benefit thing a few months from now, that’s what we said yes to, right?” 

“Yeah, you sure you don’t want me to schedule you a fitting for that?” Steve shoots him a glare over his shoulder, and Bucky huffs and turns his palms upward in surrender. “Fine, fine, whatever.” Steve’s given him the speech on _sustainable clothing,_ and _the tux I already have is just fine, Buck,_ and _I don’t got a need for another couple grand worth of fabric_. One of these days Bucky’s going to make a speech of his own on _fashion_.

Steve’s not wrong, though. He _does_ have a few suits and tuxes, all of which are well made and tailored perfectly. They look incredible on him, obviously built to last and, more importantly, specifically bought for it too. Steve doesn’t seem to subscribe to the idea of making any and every appearance he does into a fashion show, and seems happy and satisfied, if not making a point, with his gorgeous go to formal looks. 

He hears Steve make an adorable little _Aha!_ and the man comes back with a hardback about Venetian art. “Can you deliver that to wherever Bruce asks? In the city, of course. If he’s somewhere else just get a courier for it.” Bucky takes the book and turns it over a couple times, but he was never much for this kind of art. When he looks up, Steve’s watching him closely, almost like he’s holding back on whatever’s on the tip of his tongue.

“Sorry, I’m clueless about this kinda thing,” he shrugs, putting the book aside but in sight for him to take with later, and makes a note to call Banner back to ask where he’d like it delivered.

Steve smiles, his face looking soft and open, and quietly says, “That’s okay.” Steve’s such an amalgam of things, he never knows what to expect. He’s sometimes quiet, and thinks most things over before saying anything, but so often playful too. He smiles easily when he’s around people he knows and loves, usually with his friends and anyone at the house, and his version of rude is being overtly polite he’s cold. It’s not a nicety that makes people think he’s being respectful, either. It’s a glaringly obvious tone of hostility as he uses perfectly civil words bitingly. 

He’s rarely really angry, but when he is it’s clear just by the jut of his jaw and how rigidly he holds himself, that everyone backs off at the sight. He usually just lets it out by venting to Sam, cursing up a storm, and pacing around. He’s gotten and stayed where he is because of the people’s trust and loyalty, and only a small amount of fear, and any reason to be scared of him means you’ve already fucked up. 

Steve’s a great boss, and Bucky’s lucky he stumbled into this whole thing by virtue of wanting to sleep with the hot guy at the club and then running into him at a job interview. In any other scenario, that would be a recipe for disaster, but all of his luck went into this. He can never play the lottery ever again. 

“There’s something I wanted to ask,” Bucky suddenly remembers, and Steve gestures at him to go on. “Is there an upcoming long weekend or something where you’ll be free? I wanna schedule some days off.”

Steve abruptly sits up at that. “Shit, Bucky, of course, sorry, you’ve been working so many fucking days-“

Bucky quickly cuts him off. “Steve, relax, it’s fine. My hours are good, we’re just thinking of having my sister visit and trying to schedule it.”

“God, you’ve been coming in practically every day! I can’t believe-“ Steve’s working himself up so much and he looks so fucking guilty Bucky kind of wants to shake some sense into him. 

“Steve, just, shut up for a second!” Bucky didn’t mean to raise his voice, and quickly covers his own mouth with a hand the same time Steve snaps his jaw shut. Well, would you look at that. One of the most powerful men in New York and he falls silent at Bucky’s words. It’s mostly due to his shock, of course, but it’s pretty satisfying for half a second. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“ 

Steve still looks a little flabbergasted and distressed, but amusement is slowly leaking into his features as Bucky’s face darkens in a panic induced blush. Steve just looks at him and waits for him to speak, surely messing with him and keeping his silence pointedly. 

Bucky takes a deep breath and starts again. “It’s not a big deal, I’m not asking because I’ve been working too much or whatever, just trying to schedule a visit for my sister.” 

A hint of a smile is curling up the edges of Steve’s mouth, but he quickly sobers. “Buck, you can always ask for days off, you know that right? You shouldn’t worry about coming in every day. I’m sure sometimes there’ll be something I actually do need you for, but it won’t be a problem most of the time.”

Bucky dismisses his concern without a second thought. “Yeah, I know, I’m not worried about that.” He isn’t, really, but it is nice to hear. “I _like_ working for you, Steve, trust me, we got no problem.” Steve lights up a touch at the confession, and Bucky averts his eyes just so he doesn’t have to confront how it’s making his insides feel. 

“Where’s your sister live?” Steve’s back to munching on the last of the goop, which is a sure sign that he’s over the panic of overworking his favorite PA. 

“She’s in Brooklyn,” Bucky gathers the remaining scraps clinging to the plate on his fork, and resurfaces to Steve looking at him incredulously. 

“Your sister’s visiting from Brooklyn?” Steve slowly asks.

“What? Oh, no!” Bucky faintly laughs at himself. “Sorry, that’s Becs. Our youngest sister’s out in Boston on a gymnastics scholarship.”

“Whoa, those things are ridiculous to get, your sister must really be something.” Steve really does look impressed, jaw hanging a little.

“Kinda,” Bucky says with a little shrug. He knows it’s true, and Alice has sort of explained how it works and the extremely small number of scholarships they give out for what she does, but to be honest, he doesn’t fully grasp it. Whatever Alice does makes him unbearably proud, anyway. She could tell him she got a tiny role at a community center play, and his heart would burst into bubbles. In fact, she did tell him that and he felt like exploding with joy.

Steve gives him a chiding look like he knows Bucky should have looked into the whole NCAA thing deeper but forgives him his shortcomings. “How long’s she been in Boston?”

Bucky laughs bitterly at himself. “Not long at all. Alice is a freshman and Becs and I are already losing our minds from not seeing her for a few months. She’d like to come home more often but the scholarship only covers so much.”

Steve chews on that for a second. “Becs is your other sister?”

“That’s Becca, yeah. She’s here in Brooklyn with me, trying to finish her masters in anthropology.” Steve whistles, and when Bucky puts it all like that, his sisters do sound kind of impressive. 

“And what did the oldest Barnes pursue in higher education?” Steve asks as he puts away the dirty dish, taking away his fork as well. 

Bucky frowns a little. “Didn’t you read my resume?” 

Steve scrubs at the dishes, always preferring to do it by hand instead of using the dishwasher. Something about wasting water. Bucky should really listen to his rants more. “Mostly paid attention to your work experience. You got a steady string of jobs, all kinds of grunt work, and office and analytical work, too. Don’t pay attention to degrees much, not everyone can get those.”

Bucky lets that sink in. It’s true, he’s had a job since he was fifteen, trying to help his Ma out and then later to live on with his sisters. He’s also always been aware that his family’s planned extremely well, and prepared them extensively, so that they can study what they want when they want it with the right resources - financial aid, scholarships, and the like. But lots of people don’t have that stepping stone, and lots of people Steve knows probably don’t have that privilege. The fact that Steve dropped out in high school suddenly strikes him, and he fleetingly wonders if the guy ever got his GED. 

“Makes sense,” is what he settles with. “I did a degree in mechanical engineering.” Steve whips around to look at him.

“What the hell are you doing working for me?!” Bucky bursts into laughter, though Steve still looks conflicted and vaguely in shock, so he gives him a quelling look. 

“It’s a job, Steve, and a good one. Not everything I do’s gotta have to do with what I studied.” Steve accepts it in that quiet way he does, weighing things out. 

“You like it, though?” he asks.

“Yeah, are you kidding me? This is a great gig,” and Bucky’s about to go on, but Steve rolls his eyes and laughs, then gets this mischievous look in his eyes.

“I know you like working for _me_ , you’ve made that very clear,” Steve teases, and Bucky splutters a little. Steve’s tone is fairly suggestive, and it always catches Bucky off guard when he does that. “I meant the mechanical engineering stuff. Is that something you want to do?” 

“Um, yeah, I guess. If the opportunity ever comes up I might look into it.” Bucky’s trying to make sure that it doesn’t sound like he’d quit and jump ship at the prospect of a different job, he _is_ still talking to his boss, but Steve doesn’t exactly sound worried either. 

“You wanna do something like that for me?” is not what he expects Steve to say next. Bucky just kind of opens and closes his mouth a couple times. He’s not quite sure what Steve’s asking. “We’ve got a garage you can use; you can pick up a project here and there if you want. Some people come in to get whatever working, but you might have to build up your own client list for that, the other guys have their own regulars.”

“I-“ Bucky tries to come up with something that’s halfway eloquent. “I like my job just fine.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I know that, Buck, I’m not saying you gotta stop working for me and go full time over there. I mean, you can if you want to, I can talk to Grieves and she’ll give you a shot, but I kinda like having you around.” Bucky can’t help but soften at Steve saying outright that he enjoys Bucky’s company. Okay, that’s not really what the guy said, but still. “I just mean it’s there if you want it. You can mess around, though you’d need to get your own parts for that, or you can pick up a few paying projects. Grieves will handle payment with your client and everything.”

All Bucky manages to squeak out is, “Grieves?”

“The garage is hers, for all intents and purposes. Basically, she runs it for us and acts as owner. Well, not _acts_ , she basically does own the place, we just provide some resources and- you know, the usual business model. Anyway, you’re welcome to use their space, she won’t mind.” Steve makes the offer like it’s nothing, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eyes like Bucky taking him up on it will be doing Steve a favor more than anything. 

“Maybe I’ll check it out,” Bucky says noncommittally, and Steve’s face breaks into a grin.

“Great! We’ll go for a visit this week, you’ll love it, it’s pretty big and Grieves is amazing at what she does.” Steve almost sounds more excited than Bucky is, and it’s kind of endearing. “How about this weekend? You can take Monday and Tuesday off.” And just like that Steve’s onto something else. Bucky often has to play catch up. Whatever face Bucky’s making must not convey his simple need for a second to process, because Steve’s already saying, “Or Wednesday too, if you want. Do you- do you want the week?”

“No!” Bucky can’t help but laugh. Steve is always stern when he needs to be, and does everything with the kind of surety and confidence you’d expect from someone with a Roshar family ring, but he can really dig his own grave sometimes, though Bucky’s only seen him that way with a select few people. “I was just thinking. Monday and Tuesday off is fine, Alice will probably get in Friday night or something.”

“Okay, get her a ticket on the card, make sure she’s comfortable,” Steve says out of nowhere, and Bucky blinks at him.

“Your card?” When Steve just nods, stacking the clean dishes to dry, Bucky finds himself confused, and momentarily speechless. “Um, you don’t have to- you don’t have to do that, really. Alice can’t afford the train, but that’s why Becs and I are paying for everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, Buck, they’re your family. Put her travel expenses on the card, your sisters are covered.” _That_ pings a little signal in his head. It’s one thing to pay a few hundred bucks for tickets, he knows it’s nothing to Steve - or the Roshars, for that matter. He’s not sure who’s bankrolling most things, or even if they’re one and the same. 

Though, it hasn’t escaped his attention that Steve’s anything but wasteful with money. He spends a lot on a bunch of things, but they’re always meaningful expenses. Things he knows someone will get a use out of, always a reason behind every purchase. 

Bucky wants to turn down the paid for tickets, but he’s not sure he can, the way Steve’s put it. It doesn’t sound like a throwaway small item treat, which is an inkling immediately proven right when the man goes on and says, “Your sisters need anything else?” 

Bucky tries his best to maintain eye contact and keep his cool, when he says, “Uh, no.” He’s pretty sure the other answer Steve wants him to give is something along the lines of his sisters’ addresses and rent. 

“Alright, go ahead and book those tickets, I’ll try to remember that you won’t be here this weekend through Tuesday, and make sure you don’t schedule anything I need you for.” The doorbell rings and knocking comes through, with a barely muffled _“Steve!”_ letting them know that Sam and Clara have made it - and that Sam’s probably yelling real loud. Steve leaves him to open the door, and gestures for Bucky to make his arrangements. 

Bucky kind of just sits in silence for a minute while Steve shuffles everyone in, before opening his laptop to coordinate with his sisters and get Alice’s tickets. It’s slowly registering that he’s working for Steve Rogers, and the Roshars, one of the inner circle, and that his family’s now _covered_. He doesn’t know quite what that means for them. 

◆

△

Steve’s on his sixth beer, and he feels nothing. All it’s done is make him have to go pee a lot. Sam’s still nursing his third, and sort of laughing at him. It’s a Saturday night but the house is quiet, just Sam, Clara and Rita, around. Pete’s there too, but he’s tucked away in the dining room working on some homework. 

Bucky’s been gone for a couple days now - no, not gone. Jesus, the guy’s just taken some days off. He decided to give Bucky Friday off too, so it’s the second night he’s on his own. It’s not like he’s seen Bucky every day for the past couple months, he hasn’t been making the guy come in _that_ much, but it’s usually just one day in between seeing him.

He really should’ve brought his own booze, but he hates taking that shit out of his own place, especially over to the house. He gets way too anxious about somebody accidentally drinking it, or god forbid Pete thinking it’s some leftover liquor and swiping it when no one’s looking. 

“Aw Steve, what’s wrong?” Clara’s taken up the cushion to his left on the couch, burrowing into his warmth. He’s gotta fix the heat in the house if people are starting to use him as a personal radiator. 

Sam giggles some, which is a sure sign that he’s tipsy. They always forget that Sam can’t always handle his alcohol. “He misses his Bucky,” he tells the whole room, and Steve just sinks further into the couch in defeat.

Rita gives him a look, and he sighs, resigned to his fate, while Clara pats him on the head. “Hmm, that explains a lot,” Clara mutters. “Steve, go call your man and wipe that pathetic look off your face.”

Steve grabs a nearby blanket and drapes it around his friend, because she’s gradually turning into an octopus and really clamping down on him to get at his body heat. “He’s not my man, Clara,” he tells her patiently.

“But you’d like him to be,” Rita helpfully adds from her armchair across the coffee table. He gives her a reproachful glower but doesn’t say anything else. It’s becoming a very serene, sleepy night, and while he’s struggling with whatever this whole thing is that can’t possibly be falling in love with Bucky because _oh god what the fuck_ , he feels warm and content, surrounded by his family in a house he knows is more often than not full of love and laughter.

That’s always how the Roshars made him feel, no matter the decade. He thinks this sense of community is the only thing that keeps him sane sometimes. 

“Steve, honestly,” Rita starts, and Steve already wants to crawl away and hide. “If you think he likes you half as much as you obviously adore him, then just go for it.” Steve thinks on it for a while. Sometimes it seems like Bucky does think of him that way, and he already knows the guy finds him sexually attractive, what with how they got here in the first place. “I don’t have to tell you not to fuck up, though, you’re his boss. Be clear and honest.”

Rita doesn’t have to spell it out for him to know what she means. “Of course, I’d never-“ He sighs and concedes, because it’s still an important point. “Yeah, Rita.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Pete comes in and drops onto the sofa next to Sam, who hands him a beer. He goes to get up and grab the bottle opener, but Steve quickly waves him down and takes the bottle.

“ _One_ beer,” Steve stares the kid down, and he eagerly nods along and agrees. “Are you staying here tonight?” When Pete convinces him that he’s staying in for the night - which isn’t a surprise, it’s already past midnight, but you never know with kids - Steve finally pops open the cap with his own strength and hands it over. He makes sure to plop down a plate of food onto his lap, too, so he at least has something in his stomach.

Sam steals a pot sticker off of Pete’s plate, and the kid just slides the dish closer to him to share, which melts a fragment of Steve’s ice-cold heart. “We’re talking about Steve’s boy problems.”

“Oh no, Steve, did you and Bucky break up?! I haven’t seen him all day!” Pete sounds so distraught that Steve is laughing uproariously, soon joined by Rita and Sam. Clara looks to have nodded off. He doesn’t blame her. He wishes he could sleep through people talking about his love life, too - or rather, his lack of one. 

“Nah, Pete,” Sam pats him on the back in some attempt at consoling him, though it looks to be a tad too powerful to be anything close to calming. “They’re just figuring things out.”

Pete looks considerably confused by that explanation, but continues to enjoy his midnight snack. Steve can relate, he’s also a confused jumble of feelings lately. They move on to other things, Pete telling them about what he’s been up to at the youth center, and some extracurriculars he’s been picking up. Steve listens to his family share and talk, and lets the feeling of home wash over him. 

▽

◆

Alice has sort of taken everything in stride. He really shouldn’t be surprised, she’s always been highly adaptable, almost eerily well-adjusted. He and Becca would sometimes tease her about being an alien implant raised as their baby sister, and Alice just shrugs it off.

Bucky’s sure he’d love her anyway if she _did_ turn out to be an alien implant.

“I think the weirdest thing out of all this is, is that you can drive now,” Alice says with a straight face, while they’re lounging at Becca’s. Takeout is spread out between the three of them on the floor, where they’re sitting on cushions and vegging out. Darcy’s gone for a few weeks, on some trip with Jane, so they’re all staying at Becca’s for Alice’s visit. 

Bucky wants to hit his baby sister with a cushion, but even four days in, the ache in his chest from her absence is only just receding, so he hugs her instead. Alice squirms away in halfhearted protest but melts into the embrace quickly. 

“Yeah, Bucky, you weren’t meant for behind the wheel.” Becca sticks her tongue out at him, and he glares back, because he loves Becca, but he sees that little shit all the time. No hugs for her. 

Alice finally detaches herself from her brother and starts cleaning up, which earns groans from her siblings. Bucky doesn’t know how his family ever raised someone as responsible as Alice. “Shut up, I’m just throwing out all this trash, will you knock it off,” she grumbles, and Bucky and Becca sprawl out on the cushions, their legs tangled where Alice was sitting. 

“You know what I’m still lost on?” Alice calls from the kitchen, where she is in fact washing the few dishes they got dirty. “How you _got_ the job.” 

Bucky pretends not to panic, because he’d really rather not talk about that. Especially not with Alice. He doesn’t need to discuss his sex life with his baby sister. Becca, sure whatever, no details, but they kind of grew up together sharing that kind of thing. Alice, however, is the kid _he_ had to talk through her first period, and her first date, and then gave a mildly scarring sex talk to, even with the intent of treating sex like the healthy part of adult relationships it can be.

Alice may now have a mature and responsible take on sex, but Bucky wishes he can forget that conversation altogether. 

He must not hide his panic that well because Becca springs up with that _look_ on her face and smells blood. He all but jumps up, and covers her mouth with his hand. Through barely decipherable hand gestures, Bucky convinces Becca to keep quiet, and let him tell her later on her own. That’s enough of a clue as to what he might be hiding. 

He can tell Becca wants to scowl like she disapproves, but can’t decide one way or the other because she hasn’t gotten anything out of him yet. Alice comes back in to them back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. 

“So?” Alice drops back into her seat with no regard for her siblings’ limbs. “How’d you get the job?” she asks after the other two are done cursing her out and rubbing their shins.

Bucky sits up and repositions himself so they’re back to being in hugging distance. “I told you, that Stark Industries PA job thing.” He can already see Alice readying herself for a whole lecture on purposefully evading her questions, so he tries again. “I just kind of threw it out there, Barneses are Brooklyn through and through, and this Barnes would really like to work for him.” It’s not a lie, it’s _part_ of the real story. 

He wonders now what that shot in the dark would’ve gotten him had Steve not known him from their previous encounter. Would he have even had the guts to try and get a job from Steve if that was the first time they met? Maybe Steve would already be turning them down and Bucky wouldn’t even have the chance to utter his name, much less let him know that he’s from the neighborhood. 

“Huh,” Alice lets out. “Guess Rogers really is all about that whole Brooklyn born and bred thing.” Becca, however, is narrowing her eyes at him over Alice’s shoulder. 

◆

The minute they drop Alice off at the station the next day, Becca rounds on him and demands the real story. He’s got no choice but to tell her. 

Well, he holds out until they’re back at Becca’s, but then it all comes spilling out. He wasn’t hiding it really, just hasn’t really mentioned it. Becca really lets him have it when he uses that logic to wiggle out of the corner of shame she’s put him in. 

“That’s a thing then? You and Steve Rogers?” Becca finally asks once she calms down. 

Bucky tucks the sheets on Darcy’s bed in, finishing up the last of the cleaning up after their almost week long Barnes Bonding Bonanza, as Alice had jokingly called it. Bucky is honestly tempted to print that out on a t-shirt, but Becca may cause him serious bodily harm if he makes her wear that.

“No, it’s not, it’s just how we met.” Bucky insists, and Becca watches him carefully. “We’re friends now, and he’s my boss, technically, but I mean, he’s nice and friendly and _funny_.” 

“Okay, well, that kinda sounds like you at least _want_ to be a thing,” Becca points out. This is what they do for each other. Lend an ear and figure out each other’s shit storms, be the objective party in whatever mess they find the other in. 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Bucky’s tempted to jump into Darcy’s bed now that it’s all clean and fresh, but resists and leads them to Becca’s room instead, where he has no qualms about burrowing into the fluffy cocoon of her bed. “I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“So that’s a yes.” Becca joins him amongst the pillows, as he buries his face in bedding heaven. “Well, we already know he’s into you.” Bucky shifts just enough so that his one eye can give her a questioning look. “You already slept with him, Bucky! He obviously likes you.” She can already see him about to make an argument and quickly jumps in. “Look, you flirted with him that night, even if it was just a one-night stand, he got a feel for your personality and had no apparent objections.”

“I think I’d like more than ‘no apparent objections’ from whoever I’m seeing.” Becca just makes a frustrated noise like he’s purposefully driving her towards the brink of sanity. 

“Well, however this plays out, don’t let him mess you around, I don’t give a fuck _who_ he is.” It’s barely a threat, because they really can’t do much of anything to Steve if they want to, which is luckily an unnecessary precaution. 

“Steve’s not like that, Becs,” he assures his sister. “But okay, promise.” They huddle beneath the sheets for a while, like they’re seven years old again and planning some mischief that will surely aggravate their Ma. 

“He said this thing the other day,” Bucky starts, having meant to ask Becca her thoughts on it all week. She’s the one person he always goes to for a second opinion, or to bounce around ideas, or even just to air out his thoughts. Becca motions for him to keep going. “He, um, was talking about how you guys are- well, he said you were covered. Like, my sisters, they’re family, so- he like asked if there was anything you guys needed and stuff.” He’s practically mumbling by the end of the stuttered-out sentences, and the two of them share a long look. 

Finally, Becca just whispers, “Bucky, you’re _in the mob_.” Bucky pulls the covers up over his face.

◆

“The prodigal son returns!” is how he’s greeted when he lets himself into Steve’s place, Sam’s voice loud and welcoming. There’s something cooking in the kitchen, because of course, and it looks like the whole crew is in, lounging around in the living room. 

Lounging around may not be the right term, because he’s pretty sure they just wrapped up a real meeting on Roshars business. Steve beams from where he’s seated on his armchair, and lets out a bright, “Hey, Buck! How was your sister’s visit?”

Bucky puts down his things by the couch and joins Dani on the futon. “Eh, she looks the same, was kinda expecting her to be taller or something.” Clara makes her displeasure at his joke clear, and he grins right back at her. He looks over at Steve and he’s just kind of smiling at him, and Bucky takes the time to drink him in. He can’t believe just five days away warrants him taking a minute to catalogue Steve’s face. What is wrong with him?

“We’re planning Steve’s birthday!” Dani shoves the notebook in his hand towards Bucky, where there’s a list of names and supplies, and what he’s only partly sure is food. “We’re doing a block party like we do every year, but we still gotta coordinate.”

“I’m guessing this is my job now?” Bucky flips through the notebook, and only understands half of it. He’s going to need to go through it at least once with Dani. Steve’s birthday is a few weeks away, which actually _is_ in July, but not the 4th as some would believe. 

Dani smacks him on the back in what he assumes is support, and gives him a shit eating grin. Well, joke’s on him, Bucky’s awesome at party planning. “Yup. Honestly, it’s pretty much routine at this point. I’ll give you the names and numbers of everyone helping out and what we do every year.”

Bucky looks at Steve, wondering what he thinks of all this. The guy shrugs amenably, but he genuinely looks happy, “I’m not going to deprive the neighborhood of a block party.”

“I wish you would,” Sam mutters, and everyone tosses pieces of food at him. Bucky wonders if that’s a Roshars thing, to fling food at people. “I want a boat party!”

Steve grabs his friend’s shoulder and tries to console him by promising, “We’ll take the boat out on your birthday, Sam.”

Sam picks up the snacks scattered on his lap and tosses them into his mouth, talking through it in a garbled voice. “You say that every year.”

Steve chucks Sam on the back of his head, goes to the kitchen to put the food away, and quickly washes the dishes. Bucky makes quick work of catching up on emails and messages, before heading over to Steve and playing more catch up on work. Everyone else continues to munch on food and shoot the shit in the living room, though he can hear some work talk peppered in. 

“You feel like going to the garage today?” Steve finally asks as he puts away the last of the food. Bucky fumbles with his phone at the mention of the garage. They never got around to going last week, the days quickly filling up with work they had to deal with before Bucky’s days off.

“Uh, sure?” He’s admittedly a little nervous. He doesn’t know what to expect, and meeting more people from the Roshars is always a bit nerve-wracking. He’s gotten better at it overtime, especially with how well Steve and the rest of the guys treat him. Still, there’s that niggling of worry inside, especially knowing that he might be spending some indeterminate amount of time there, should he choose to.

Steve laughs, when he takes in his face. “You don’t gotta look like that,” he assures Bucky, but what does _he_ know? Okay, so the one guy who knows more than Bucky does is probably Steve but, still! Steve seems so sure that Grieves will just let him saunter in and tinker around, and yeah okay Grieves probably _has_ to let someone from the Roshars take a bit of space to fuck around if they want to, but Bucky would rather do it _with her permission_. 

Bucky hardly thinks that’s how it is, though, with the way Steve talks about the woman. 

“Alright, guys, we’re heading out!” Steve calls out, and everyone packs up and heads out in record time. Hardly anyone’s ever at Steve’s place without him there, except for Bucky when Steve specifically asks him to do something, or Rita. Steve follows with the usual giant container of food and normal-portion sized container for porch kid, and Bucky locks up. “Let’s head over to the house and check in before leaving.”

Bucky nods, because he gathered as much from all the food. They take a leisurely walk to the house, and Bucky finds himself pummeled by gangly sixteen year old limbs in the form of Pete. “Bucky, you’re back!” the kid cries out against Bucky’s shoulder, where he’s still hugging him. “I’m glad you figured things out.”

Bucky stares wide eyed at the others, all of whom are snickering, except for Steve who’s got his face in his hand. “Uh, good to see you too, kid.” Bucky awkwardly pats Pete’s back until he’s let go. It looks like he’s about to say more, but Steve hands him his food, and drags him back to the porch with a forceful yet gentle side hug. 

“Give him some room to breathe, Pete, he’s still got the rest of the house to survive.” He doesn’t look too happy about being forcibly removed from Bucky’s personal space, but smiles anyway, settling in his usual seat. 

They go inside with another gleeful welcome back from Pete, and go to say hi to everyone, most of them calling out to Bucky when they see that he’s no longer away. After putting away the food, some of which had already been nabbed by a couple people, they do a quick visit with Rita and then they’re back outside, and ducking into Steve’s car. 

“It’s not too far away, but it’s not exactly walking distance,” Steve says by way of explanation, and lets his music play on low as they drive. “Hey, you got something to wear for the benefit thing?”

“Um,” Bucky says, and finds that he’s got nothing else to add. He’s so lost he’s not sure what to even ask. Steve spares him a glance, in some effort to untie his tongue, but all that comes out is, “What?”

Steve huffs, but it comes off more fond than annoyed, which is an interesting sound coming from the man. “The Captain America thing, are you not gonna make it?” He runs his fingers through his beard, like a nervous tick, almost. “I mean, you don’t gotta come-“

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Bucky interjects, before Steve digs a hole so deep he’s uninvited even himself, in that way that he does when he rambles. He’s honestly a bit confused and a lot surprised, because he had no idea he was supposed to go. “I thought you always go alone.”

Steve actually does huff in annoyance at that, and Bucky thinks he’s stepped on some landmine, before he sees that his eyes are crinkling in amusement. “Sam always promises to go with me and bails last minute, that fucker.” Bucky laughs, because yeah that sure sounds like Sam. It also sounds like Steve to keep holding a place for him when he makes the inevitably empty promises. He wonders not for the first time how Steve and Sam became friends. “So? You’re not gonna stand me up too, right?”

Bucky pretends to think it over, though by the look on Steve’s face, they both know Bucky’s all in. 

“Come on, you can’t leave me with all those politicians, that just ain’t fair,” Steve almost whines, and Bucky scoffs. 

He almost doesn’t say it, but what the hell, and the words are suddenly tumbling out. “Would be nice to meet the ones you got in your pocket, though, right?”

Steve lets out a roar of laughter, and Bucky’s giggling in delight at the fact that he’s the one who made him sound that happy, and at the mere fact that he can get away with saying shit like that to Steve. The guy keeps laughing for long enough that Bucky would worry about his driving if he didn’t know any better. 

◆

The garage is great, two shops side by side merged into one, and Grieves is as welcoming and impressive as Steve said she’d be. They seem pretty close, and Bucky has to tamp down the urge to eye the two of them when they hug for a little too long. 

Mostly, they walk around and talk about what kind of equipment and parts are available, the kind of clients they take, prices, and Bucky’s cut if he were to work a couple projects there. He leaves with Grieves’ number and a promise to let her know a couple days ahead of time if he’s coming in with a client, and just a quick call if he’s showing up to work on his own stuff. 

The whole thing was painless and a lot of fun. Steve’s vibrating out of his skin from giddiness at the end of it, looking satisfied with himself for introducing Bucky to the garage. 

“You alright there, big guy?” Bucky finally asks, as Steve sings off key to yet another song from his playlist. 

“I’m fine,” he flashes a hundred-watt smile in response, and Bucky rolls his eyes at how happy and smug Steve feels from all the way across the central console. “We’ll head over to my tailor for something for you to wear to the benefit, is that okay?”

Steve always asks things like that, even when they’re essentially getting things for Bucky, and he can’t express how grateful he is for Steve’s respect and boundaries. He doesn’t act like everything he might be able to provide is a favor, or that it’s a given it’ll all be appreciated. “Sure. Thought we shouldn’t be wasteful with clothing, though?” Bucky teases.

Steve gives him a pointed look. “Do you _have_ something you wanna wear?”

Bucky purses his lips before finally admitting, “No.”

“Well, alright then.”

Bucky walks away from the tailor having approved more than just the one outfit for the benefit. Five, to be exact. He picks out fabrics and patterns, colors, and cuts. Steve lounges on the couch next to him the entire time. Bucky finds himself repeatedly ogling him and wondering what it would be like picking out looks just like this for Steve. He snaps himself out of it before he gets caught - he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve got any thoughts, feel free to share.  
> Expect the next chapter in a couple days.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, guys. 
> 
> Meraki_Moli continues to grace us with her keen eye as a beta, round of applause for her.

The block party is much bigger than he thought it’d be. It’s not really a _birthday party_. More like an annual block party on the weekend of Steve’s birthday, where a lot of people are giving him well wishes. 

A lot of people are from the Roshars, and they greet Steve with a lot of merriment and respect. A lot of people are also just from the neighborhood, but are as warm and ready to party. There’s an ungodly amount of food, every other person bringing something to share, not to mention the borderline banquet Steve’s cooked up himself of weird snacks and desserts. He’s only partially sure some of it’s Irish. 

Dani comes with his own assembly of meals, a menu he’s apparently planned out months in advance. Steve hugs Dani for a long time when he takes in the array of treats. 

The party’s not too far from the house, and it stretches on for multiple blocks. If it isn’t clear the Roshars’ got some pull with the local PD before, it sure is now, because the permit for this shindig would never come through. 

Steve’s been bugging Bucky about getting Alice to come down for weekend visits whenever she wants - and other more hefty payments to help his sisters out that he’s been mostly pretending isn’t an option he’s got by virtue of his job - so she’s back in New York for a couple days, and both Barnes sisters are in attendance, though he hasn’t seen them yet. 

“Hey, birthday boy.” Bucky strolls up to Steve where he’s leaned up against a lamp post, having just finished a piece of peach pie. He’s going to make the most of calling Steve that today because the first time he’d jokingly said it, Steve went all red and groaned, “Oh my god, Bucky, you can’t call me that, I’m turning 32, for fuck’s sake.” He really made his own bed with that one.

Steve’s given up verbally protesting, but he does look daggers at him. “You havin’ a good time?” He grabs a nearby potato snack thing and just sort of shoves it into Bucky’s hands, and Bucky’s powerless to eat it. 

“Yeah,” he says after finally swallowing his food. “If I’d known there was a giant party over here the last few years I woulda shown up.” His own place and Becca’s are a little too far away to have gotten wind of the party, though really, if they’d been looking for it, it wouldn’t have been hard to find. 

“Hmm, maybe I woulda met you much sooner then,” Steve beams down at him, looking happy as ever. He obviously loves having everyone around, the sounds of people talking and laughing over music and food, and Bucky gets why this is the way Steve wants to spend his birthday every year. It just feels like the exact kind of community he likes to build. 

Something catches Steve’s eye, and he grins even wider. “Hey, you meet Sam’s boyfriend yet?” Bucky shakes his head, and Steve throws an arm around him and leads him down the street to where Sam’s leaning against a guy built almost as much as Steve, though clean shaven and with his hand around Sam’s waist.

“Bucky!” Bucky can’t tell if Sam’s drunk or just really amped up. The guy’s loud on any given day, he’d imagine he gets pretty rowdy at a party like this. “This is Riley!” He gives his boyfriend a loud smack on the cheek, and then grins back at Bucky. He’s not sure what’s expected of him, so he just offers a handshake. 

Riley is evidently used to Sam’s antics and shakes Bucky’s hand, looking perfectly comfortable with Sam attached to his side. “Nice to meet you, Bucky, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Bucky’s only slightly surprised by that. Sam can get real chatty, he’s sure he tells his boyfriend most things. 

“Right back at you.” Bucky puts on his most charming smile, because Sam’s his friend and he’d rather his boyfriend like him. “I’d let you know the best food to go for here but you probably know more than I do. I don’t even know what most of it is.” He’s not the host of the party, that’s for sure, but he did coordinate a lot of it, so he feels partly responsible for anything that goes down. Including food related disappointment. 

“Buck, you really gotta keep up with all this stuff we’re feeding you,” Steve brings him closer to his side, and Bucky’s only now realizing Steve’s had his arm around him this entire time. He would think the guy’s drunk if he doesn’t know that Steve only drinks his own booze when he’s at home.

Bucky’s about to make a quip about how he’s mostly sure that half the stuff Steve makes doesn’t even _have_ a name, when a loud booming, “Steve!” comes through. They turn around and a giant blonde guy’s weaving through the crowd deftly making his way towards them. 

“Thor!” Steve gives him a hug, one arm still around Bucky, and he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s moderately squishing him but Thor soon backs up.

“Happy Birthday! It’s been too long since I’ve been in town; I’m glad I made it back just in time.” Bucky looks to the side right as Thor’s companions take a look at him, and they all blink at each other for a few seconds because it’s Darcy and Jane. As in his friends, who he knows through his sister, who are apparently friends with some muscly blonde guy, who’s either a friend of Steve’s or in the Roshars.

“Thor, this is Bucky, you haven’t met him yet,” Steve introduces him just in time. He offers his hand automatically just because his head’s still reeling a little, but Thor envelops him in a hug and he can’t help the little _oof_ he lets out. Steve peels him out of Thor’s arms before his blood stops flowing to any critical body parts. 

“Oh yes, this is my girlfriend, Jane, and this is Darcy. We only just got back from our trip a few days ago.” Thor drags Jane to his side, and Darcy numbly follows suit, her eyes still stuck on Bucky. The three of them are dead silent. Bucky’s really not sure what to say. It’s not a problem, per se; he just wasn’t expecting to see them here, and wow is Becca going to lose her shit when she finds them. 

The shock must be radiating in waves because the rest of the guys are starting to pick up on the weird vibe. Sam clears his throat to break the silence and Bucky looks at him. They proceed to exchange glances… mostly a lot of _what the fuck is going on_ s coming from Sam and blank wide-eyed looks from Bucky. 

“I- Hey, Darcy,” Bucky finally croaks. He turns to Steve and Sam (and Riley, because he’s right there) and says, “This is my friend Darcy, and Jane.” He tries for a smile and he’s pretty sure it comes out alright. 

Darcy’s the one to recover first out of the two, and comes close to peck Bucky on both cheeks. “I should’ve known you’d be here, there’s no way a rager like this could happen and you don’t sniff it out.”

Bucky smacks her on the arm just out of habit, with a bark of “Darce!” Jane snorts and shakes her head at the two of them. “Hey, Becs and Alice are around here somewhere,” he gestures down the street and looks around. “You should tell them to find us.” Darcy’s already on her phone to, presumably, do as he suggests. 

“You’re well acquainted then!” Thor says, looking for all the world like it’s the best news ever. 

Steve and Sam appear to be processing the information but don’t seem too troubled or worried, so Bucky silently heaves out a sigh of relief. He can’t think of any reason why this should be an issue, it was just weird and unexpected. He’s been keeping some parts of his life pretty separate so far, but this is ostensibly the end to a lot of that. He’s really curious as to how Thor and Steve know each other now, and how he met Jane. 

There’s no way Jane and Darcy don’t know who Steve is. Darcy, especially. She’s from Brooklyn, just like him, though she did live abroad for a while when she was a kid. Jane doesn’t live in the area, he can’t remember where exactly, someplace near midtown he thinks, but with how much she and Darcy live in each other’s pockets, he’s always assumed whatever Darcy knows so does Jane, and vice versa. 

“Yeah, we’ve been friends for a while,” Bucky says, and changes the subject just to get the focus off of him. “So, where’d you guys go? Somewhere in Europe, right?” He thinks Darcy mentioned Europe when she was talking about her trip. 

Jane pipes up, “Yeah, Darcy and I went to a few countries in Eastern Europe, and then Thor joined us at the tail end.” Bucky takes a peek at Thor and he doesn’t seem to be contributing details to his trip. With the association to Steve, enough to warrant a standing invite to his annual block party, and what sounded like an ongoing friendship, he can connect the dots on his own. _Working_ , then. 

“It’s great to finally meet you, Jane, Thor always gushes about you,” Steve flashes her his smile, and Jane adorably blushes. Darcy simply rolls her eyes at her with the sweetest look on her face. Sometimes he thinks those two would make a cute couple but he knows they’re more like sisters. 

“Bucky, come on, let’s grab some food,” Darcy tugs at him, effectively dislodging him from Steve, and Steve sends him a questioning look. He just waves him off and links his arm with his friend’s as they make their way down the street picking up whatever food looks good. 

He can feel Steve still staring after him, so he makes sure to act casual and not visibly freak out. Darcy seems to sense the need as well, because all she does is hiss, “What the _fuck,_ you secret keeping motherfucker, why did I just find you draped all over Steve fucking Rogers at his block party!” through her teeth. 

Bucky sighs, and finally tells her what he can about his job. “What about you?! How are you here! What’s the deal with Jane’s boyfriend?” he finally gets to ask after explaining his new job in a nutshell. 

It’s coming on to three months now that he’s been working for Steve, and really, he feels a twinge of guilt for not having told Darcy yet. He meant to let her know when they hang out at Becca’s, but they always seem to be in public places, none of which seem to be the right location for him to blurt out _“So my new job is PA to Steve Rogers!”_ and the interrogation that would ensue. 

“Jane met him like almost a year ago now, and he’s a good guy, travels a lot, but is around most of the time.” Bucky gives her a flat look, because obviously that can’t be all there is if he’s here all buddy buddy with Steve. “Yeah okay, he helps out with some shady shit sometimes but he’s very _selective_.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes but hey, glass houses. Halfway down the block they finally find Becca and Alice, who are having a grand old time with a mountain of food and a couple beers polished off on Becca’s part. 

“Alice!” Bucky bounds over and crushes her into a hug. 

“What am I, chopped liver?” Becca says between bites of food, and Bucky ignores her.

He can hear Darcy peck his sister on the cheek and say hello, before the flurry of questions finally trickle in. Between the two of them, he and Darcy explain enough of how she and Jane are here to make the girls’ eyebrows shoot up but remain calm, and they continue exploring the mini food festival the party’s really turning out to be. 

They finally circle back to the main part of the party after dark, where more people are from the Roshars (some of whom take the time to say hi to Bucky). He can see Rita not too far away, hanging out with Pete and Dani, and across the street is Steve, Riley having just left his side. He must be off getting more food or something. He tugs Becca and Alice with him to go over to Steve, because he knows the guy’s dying to meet his sisters. 

“Steve!” He all but barrels into the guy. Damn, those few drinks really got to his head. “This is Becs and Alice.”

“Whoa, you okay, Buck?” Steve props him up, even though he’s not really that drunk. Steve quickly turns to his sisters, clearly eager to get to know them. “Hi, I’m Steve, Buck talks about you guys all the time.” Which, hey, tattletale. 

“Good to meet you, Steve.” Becca shakes his hand, exuding charm and confidence like she always does when dealing with people she deems worthy of the effort. 

“I hope it’s more along the lines of recent accomplishments and not embarrassing stories from my goth phase in grade school,” Alice chimes in, shooting Bucky a glare she perfected when she was thirteen, and Bucky finally found out what his Ma felt like, whenever he acted as if she was embarrassing him by her mere existence. 

Steve tips his hand back and forth. “Little of both.” 

“Steve!” Bucky chides, then stuffs one of the many unidentifiable deep fried snacks on hand into his mouth. 

Steve looks down at him like a particularly adorable puppy - or maybe it’s more an annoying puppy - and takes his drink away from him, but leaves behind the greasy food. Bucky thinks he made a mistake, he’s chomping down on the stuff and he _still_ can’t tell what it is. That can’t be good. 

Steve asks them both about their studies, looking genuinely amazed at some of the things they tell him, especially when Becca talks about some of the on site work she’s got to do, and Alice talks about her current training regimen. 

Everyone else soon joins them, and Sam steals Becca away to talk about god knows what, while Alice is immediately absorbed into a conversation with Pete. At 18, Alice is probably the closest in age to Pete, compared to anyone else in the Roshars Bucky knows well. 

The music gets louder as it gets later into the night, and the younger kids leave to go home. The main part of the party’s now filled with people dancing, and Clara drags him along to join her. Pretty much everyone’s moving to the music, casually trading partners like they’re all friends, which isn’t that big of a stretch. Everyone left knows each other here, in one way or another, and most of them hang out at the house a lot or are at least from nowhere farther than down the street. 

Bucky’s enjoying himself, dancing with his friends and his sisters, singing along to some of the songs he knows. Steve finds him at some point, and they stick together the rest of the time. 

This close to him, Bucky thinks about how the last time they were pressed up against each other moving not too differently as they are now, was when they were dancing at a club. 

This is much better. 

He doesn’t know if Steve was thinking the same thing, or something else has just occurred to him, but the guy starts laughing in delight, and leads him to try a slightly more involved dance. Bucky just follows, no idea what he’s doing. 

It’s mostly just figuring out how to move to match Steve’s pace and the music, and it’s the most fun he’s had in a while. They laugh through stumbles and spins, and Bucky lets himself lean into Steve all he wants.

It’s a good night. 

◆

The next morning, he gets breakfast with his sisters, and along with his waffles, eggs, and bacon, gets the stink eye. 

After about ten minutes of silence, he’s finally had it. “Okay, what.”

Alice looks mutinous, but Becca’s pretty calm, so he’s not too scared. Maybe only a tinge of fear, though. Becca plans for whatever her schemes are and lets you know it’s coming just to double the terror and make you sweat, but Alice is more unpredictable. 

“You- You never said!” Alice screeches, just like Becca does when she’s at the end of her rope. Bucky keeps looking at her, in the hopes of getting a hint to what’s bothering his baby sister. “You and Steve!” She whisper shouts. Well, at least she’s smart enough not to shout Steve Rogers’ name smack dab in the middle of a Brooklyn diner. 

“What _about_ me and-” Bucky takes a second to breathe. “There _is_ no- it isn’t like that, Alice.” Alice looks like she’s about to explode, because she hates being treated like she’s stupid, so Bucky quickly tells her, “I’m not lying, we’re not together or anything. We’ve just gotten pretty close and we’re really good friends, okay?”

Alice knows Bucky doesn’t outright lie to her, never has, to either of his sisters, so she simmers down just enough for Becca to add her own two cents. “Well, I _did_ say he’s clearly into you.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, because that is so not helping, but Alice is just nodding along, and Bucky knows he’s outnumbered. “Look, can we just-” Bucky stabs his fork into his waffle, and pulls at it to rip off a chunk. “What’s on the docket today?”

◆

Steve fucks him less than a month later. 

Bucky’s not sure what actually does it, but he’s suddenly pressed up against the kitchen island, his fingers buried in Steve’s hair, and legs around his waist, and devoured within an inch of his life. 

Steve pulls away, making Bucky whine in protest, but he firmly keeps their mouths apart long enough to look Bucky in the eye and get his breathing under control, and say, “Buck, you don’t gotta-,” He licks his lips, and the only thing keeping Bucky in place instead of chasing down that tongue is Steve’s hands against his collarbone. “I don’t want this if it’s-,” Steve drops his forehead against Bucky’s, and finally says, so softly he almost doesn’t catch it, “I care a lot about you, Buck.”

Bucky pulls his fingers down, through the soft strands of his dark blonde hair, the carefully trimmed beard, and to the back of his neck. He puts enough pressure on the underside of Steve’s jaw to tilt his head up and look straight into his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot, Steve,” he warns, and then kisses him with all he’s got, hoping that’ll send the message just as effectively as his words did when he met Steve the second time around and asked to work for the Roshars. 

Steve carries him into his bedroom, stripping them both of their clothes, and fucks him slow and hard, words tumbling out of his mouth that make Bucky keen. Endless praise of _oh god honey you’re so sweet,_ and _just like that sweetheart,_ and _fuck Bucky I’m so close_. 

He’s not sure if he’s forgotten what Steve was like in bed all those months ago, and he never thought he would, but any memories of it have been instantly replaced by how thoroughly Steve takes care of him now, fucking him rough not ten minutes later until they’re both a bundle of oversensitive nerves, and then eating him out until he comes a third time and falls asleep. 

Waking up on Steve’s chest and feeling the rumble of his snores is some kind of dreamlike state of existence. The only thing that’s letting him know he’s not currently floating away in his subconscious is the bits of drying come still stuck on certain body parts. He can tell that Steve cleaned them both up last night while he passed out, but he undeniably missed a few spots because yikes. 

Burrowing under the covers is just too peaceful, though, so he stays where he is and takes in Steve’s bedroom; he’s never seen it before. The door’s usually closed, and Steve never has him grab anything from inside. 

It’s a little like a mini version of the rest of Steve’s place. Sketches and pictures tacked up on the walls, stacks of books everywhere, and a few propped up canvases hidden away. There are a couple paintings actually hung up, and they’re somewhat breathtaking. The work’s pretty abstract, swathes of blue that somehow invoke a storm in his chest. There’s also a smaller piece of what might possibly be a warped cityscape of some kind, but the lighting’s all wrong and makes him kind of nauseous. 

Bucky knows fuck all about art but even he knows anything that makes you viscerally feel things must be damn good. He’s assuming they’re Steve’s, and Bucky knows he’s an artist - he spends a lot of time in the studio; is all paint splattered now and then - but he’s never really thought about what the things he makes might look like. 

He turns away from the pieces and burrows into Steve instead, preferring the real human version of him to the vomit of feelings that came out of the man in the form of a striking mess of colors.

He must have dozed off, because he gets woken up by slightly scratchy kisses all over his face, and lets out an involuntary giggle. “Fucking finally, I’ve been kissin’ on you for five whole minutes and you kept snoring away!” Steve’s voice is only a touch deeper than it usually is; probably some combination of the early hour and not having had any water.

Bucky opens his eyes to stormy baby blues and bedhead, and is helpless to plant a soft kiss onto Steve’s pout. “You’re like a very enthusiastic giant puppy.” The comment doesn’t seem to deter Steve’s smile, or the cuddling he’s really aiming for this whole time with waking him up via kisses and draping himself all over Bucky. 

He just lets it happen, and when Steve’s satisfied with having Bucky lie on him and covered in blankets, finally gives him a long thorough kiss. “Good morning.” God, if he knew a little tongue was all it took to get Steve in a good mood, he would’ve had that ready in his arsenal from day one of his job. Though, he kind of did. Whatever.

“Mornin’ Buck,” Steve plays with the ends of Bucky’s hair, the slight curls on top, and rubs his fingers against his growing stubble. “D’you have a good night?” There’s a twinkle in Steve’s eye like he’s teasing him, but Bucky knows it’s a partly serious question.

Bucky gives him a quick peck on the chin before quickly saying, “Yeah, Steve,” with as much sincerity as he can muster. “Would be better if it comes with some breakfast, though.”

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky and gets the both of them up and out of bed in one swift move, earning a loud yelp. “Shower first,” he declares, and carries him into the bathroom. Cleaning up devolves into getting each other off, and Steve fucks his mouth before sucking his brains out through his dick. 

When they both tumble out back into the bedroom, Bucky’s a loose limbed puddle of satisfaction and giddiness. “Hmm, I gotta go home and change,” Bucky says as he pulls on last night’s clothes. He really hates having to wear dirty clothes, but it’ll just be for a bit. He turns around to Steve in threadbare sweatpants and nothing else, and contemplates staying right where he is for the foreseeable future. 

Steve stares at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking and drags him to the kitchen, presumably for the promised breakfast. He tries to pick him up, but Bucky bats his hands away with a grumble of, “Stop carrying me everywhere, asshole.” He gets a kiss in return and grabby hands instead. 

As Steve’s whipping something up, hopefully nothing too out there - Bucky’s more picky about his breakfast foods, sue him - he asks, “Aren’t you doing breakfast with Becca today?” Bucky pauses pouring out his coffee, from beans only he and Sam use when they’re at Steve’s because apparently none of the others drink coffee, which still boggles his mind.

“Um, yeah,” he shrugs, and tops off his drink with the hazelnut creamer and a generous dollop of whipped cream - homemade whipped cream, which Steve keeps in stock. The man’s insane. “It’s fine, I’ll have double breakfast. See, you’re rubbing off on me already.”

Steve lifts his eyebrows and Bucky can already _hear_ the joke coming so he just shuts him up with a kiss, and then settles at the island with his caffeine. Steve shows mercy and serves him a perfectly normal breakfast, though in the usual abnormal amount that Bucky’s become accustomed to. Piles of scrambled eggs, runny sunny side up, and a few cheesy omelets, along with perfectly cooked bacon on the right side of burnt, crispy toast, and a mess of potatoes seasoned thoroughly. 

Steve should really take this whole cooking thing to another level, open a restaurant or something. Or a soup kitchen! That seems like more his style.

Steve nudges him with an elbow, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” He only sounds slightly worried, so Bucky figures he’s only partly down the rabbit hole of anxiety and doubt Steve sometimes finds himself in. 

Bucky says exactly what was on his mind. “You should run a soup kitchen.”

Steve looks taken aback for a second, like that was the last thing he expected to hear, and it probably was, but then rolls with it as he always does. “There’s an idea.” Bucky hums in thought, and shovels more food into his mouth. “We already got a couple of those, actually.” 

Bucky didn’t really mean anything by it, but the revelation doesn’t surprise him. “Huh.” It’s a quiet meal, mostly because they’re tired and hungry, and it’s pretty fucking early, but it’s nice and content all the same. He gets a few more pecks before they clean up, and a long lingering kiss before he leaves, somewhat reluctantly. 

“I’ll see you at noon?” Steve asks almost doubtfully, looking straight at him but fingers picking at the edges of Bucky’s jacket. He never stops getting blindsided by the flickers of vulnerability he gets from Steve, always at the least expected moments. 

Bucky gives him one last soft kiss, almost tender, and hopes that’ll be enough. 

◆

It took Becca no time at all to make him blurt everything out. Well, it was more that Bucky took less than a minute once he joined her at her table before spitting it out - without the gory details.

She took it well, he thinks. A lot of _I told you so_ s and only a minimal level of concern. He really fucking loves his sister. 

Coming in through Steve’s front door, he’s only a little apprehensive. Before he can worry too much, though, Steve’s in the entryway and crowding him with a beaming smile. “Hey, Buck,” he says after a quick kiss, and takes the couple bags of groceries in his hands. They troop back out to the car Bucky borrows from Steve’s garage whenever he goes shopping, bringing in everything in a couple trips. 

Inside is a spicy smell coming from the kitchen, where Dani is working on a couple dishes and using Sam as a taster. He and Steve work around their friends to put things away, and get a couple spoonfuls of some kind of stew in the process. 

“We got word from Daniels,” Sam says, after he takes a sip of water to counter the heat of whatever tasting platter he finished off. Steve raises his eyebrow in question, and Sam goes on. “His guy’s pretty pissed but it’s his own damn fault, mixing his business like that.” 

Steve hums in agreement, then asks, “Are we all set up with Thor’s guy, then?” Bucky’s ears perk up at that. He knows the issue with Daniels has to do with some missing shipment, and he assumed Thor was a smuggler of some kind, so it all adds up. 

Steve actually _did_ have to _call some people_ as Rita suggested, when they found out who had taken their product. Steve kind of lost his shit when they traced them back to the mob in Chicago, ended up ranting to Rita about some history - very old history - he has with them, but the guys got dealt with and they made it clear just who exactly the Chicago mob had accidentally pissed off. 

They’re not expecting trouble anytime soon. 

“Yeah, dude’s pretty cool, talked to her myself and everything. Dani looked through everything and her operation’s clean, got a real tight lid, and hasn’t had any problems in the past. Nothing too serious, anyway.” Sam gets served another array of treats, and he immediately pounces on them. Steve tries to steal one but Dani shoos him away, because, “Sam needs the full experience to provide useful criticism.”

Maybe Dani’s the one who should open a soup kitchen. Or restaurant - he thinks he’s more suited for that.

“Is she gonna meet Rita?” Steve settles next to Bucky, where he’s working on his laptop, with a smaller less exciting plate of food from Dani. Apparently, Dani’s declared Steve an incompetent taster because the guy would eat anything. He’s not wrong. 

Sam makes a face, and then instantly assures Dani that it’s not because of whatever he’s put in his mouth. “Rita says she’ll wait it out, maybe meet her later on.” Steve nods like he approves, and asks for the next order of business.

“Jones is thinking of moving,” Dani tells them once he leaves his pots to keep warm on the stove. “But says he’ll work an angle over there, work our jobs, be our eyes and ears. Nothing that’ll step on anybody’s toes, but it’s a good deal.”

“No jobs from anyone else in the Roshars other than us. If it’s not coming from you, or Clara, or Sam, it better be coming from Rita. We don’t need him getting into trouble when he’s moving cause his wife’s finally getting her assignment.” Dani takes Steve’s words as gospel, not that he doesn’t usually, but he looks particularly determined to make sure Jones is accounted for. 

“Shit, is she really gonna be an astronaut?” Bucky looks up from his screen, all wild eyed in awe. Everyone else lights up alongside him, but Steve shoves him lightly.

“Buck, she’s _already_ an astronaut, how many times do I gotta say.” Steve’s ready to go off on some tangent so Bucky briskly redirects him back to work. When someone knocks on the door, Bucky goes and opens it to Clara, dark circles under her eyes but bright grin on as always, greeting him with a hug and thundering through to the kitchen to join everyone else. 

Nothing is that different. Steve keeps touching him, his arm, his fingers, his waist, the small of his back, and especially his hair. No one really bats an eye so Bucky takes it all in stride. He likes how affectionate Steve is, makes him feel all warm, and he’s surprised at how he falls into it without a second thought, accepting kisses here and there nary a freak out in sight. He’s proud of himself, he has to say.

At one point, Sam gives him a particularly spirited hug, which he assumes is because he’s happy Bucky’s giving smooches to his best friend. Knowing Sam, though, it could be anything - the guy’s a hugger. 

They have dinner at the deli that night, Rita joining them, letting out an amused laugh when she sees Bucky all tucked up under Steve’s arm. He hopes that means she approves. It’s a good night, lots of food and pleasant conversation, only one teasing remark on Steve’s sunnier than usual mood from Rita, and very minimal work talk. 

Bucky drops off some deli food for porch kid, and follows Steve back to his place where he gets methodically kissed all over, ending the night riding the man - something he learns is very appreciated. It’s an apt glimpse into what he can expect these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to share that this entire story is built around the prompt:  
> “Steve fucks him less than a month later.”
> 
> Originally, the sentence I had come up with and really wanted to write something around was “Steve fucks him two months in.” It was also less soft than you will continue to get here.
> 
> Please comment if you’re so inclined, talk to me about things.  
> Next chapter’s coming very soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feeelings. and other things.
> 
> Meraki_Moli is the real hero of this chapter, which wouldn’t be nearly as put together without her help as a beta.

He’s gotten used to waking up to scruffy Steve, under a mountain of blankets. Steve has these cable knit throws, t-shirt fabric covers, and soft to the touch comforters all piled on his bed, and Bucky can never get enough of them.

“Mornin’, Buck,” Steve hums against the back of his neck, placing tickling kisses around to his collarbone. Bucky pushes back against his chest, and then turns around to kiss his jaw and bury his face into his neck. Snuggling with Steve has shot up to his number one favorite pastime. “We got that meeting with Rita in an hour,” Steve reminds him, and Bucky groans. 

Their meeting with Rita got pushed up to this morning because she has to fly out by noon, which is seriously getting in the way of the morning sex he was hoping to indulge in. Steve kisses his hair in sympathy, because if there’s anything they agree on it’s how to spend a slow luxurious morning and, as has become habit, picks Bucky up and carries him into the shower. 

Bucky grumbles but gets a move on; if he steals a few minutes to love up on his guy under the shower head, it’s no one’s business but his own. 

The house is half full, as it is most of the time when they get there, and it’s a windy day, so Pete’s on the window seat inside, instead of beating Ayisha at chess out on the front porch. “Hey, kid, eat up,” Bucky hands him his food, and Pete digs in without hesitation. 

“Good morning,” Clara calls out from the table, yawing halfway through. Steve comes over to greet her in a hug before they make their way back to Rita’s office. 

It’s a quick meeting, over tea and a couple pastries. Bucky ducks out after they wrap up their business, and leaves Steve and Rita to talk about whatever it is they do when they have everyone clear out or go to the back to have private conversations. 

He plops down next to porch kid, and makes to take one of the last of his spring rolls, but Pete offers it up before his hand’s even anywhere near his plate. “You’re too good, kid,” Bucky says instead, and declines. “Is this homework?”

Pete shakes his head, and angles the laptop so Bucky can read what’s on it better. “Not really. I’m a Junior this year, so I’m trying to get an internship. It’ll give me better chances for college and scholarships, and it pays too.” Pete’s got an application form pulled up and halfway filled out, and Bucky can’t help but notice it’s for Stark Industries. 

“You ask for Steve’s help yet?” Bucky asks, and Pete turns rather pale and shakes his head. No one ever brings up Captain America in the Roshars. It’s more of a nonissue than an actual forbidden topic, though it’s no secret that as far as the Roshars are concerned, they’ve never even heard of Captain America. 

Bucky thought it was because of how much Steve’s distanced himself from that image, and very clearly goes out of his way to only associate himself with it when he’s at actual Captain America mandated events, and to an extent, it is. Part of it, though, he’s learned, is his own struggle with his past, only a few years out now from fighting World War II. He’s talked Steve down after nightmares a few times, helped him through a couple panic attacks, and hasn’t missed how much he hates thinking about his time as a soldier. 

Mostly, Steve’s okay. He talks to Riley because apparently the guy works for the VA where he lives, which is also where Sam used to work before he started working for the Roshars and then Steve. It’s undeniable that he’s gotten to where he is mentally from the past few years of working on himself, so he’s doing really well. 

Still, no one wants to bring up Captain America if they can help it. Above everything else, they _like_ Steve. The guy’s made it crystal that outside of a few times a year, he’s just Steve Rogers, and they respect that. 

This isn’t the same, though. Bucky’s sure Steve wouldn’t mind Pete just asking, maybe even just for some advice. He can understand Pete’s worry, but anyone within a ten mile radius knows how much Steve adores the kid. He’d be happy to help.

“You mind if I bring it up for you?” Bucky asks, not wanting to push if Pete actually does say no, but he just chews on his lip. “I’m sure Steve will want to at least look it over and help you out, kid, wherever it is you’re trying to get a spot at.”

Pete shrugs and continues to fill out the form, with Bucky pointing out a couple typos as he goes. Steve’s back in no time, Rita hustling out right behind him with a couple suitcases and a few guys at her heels. After Steve’s kissed her goodbye, Bucky wastes no time. “Steve, look, Pete’s looking for internships.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve bounds over and looks at the screen over Pete’s shoulder. Something flickers over his features for half a second, and Bucky’s sure he’s caught on to where Pete’s trying to get in. “You wanna tell me about it?”

Pete looks hesitant, but sounds excited anyway. “It’s this part-time internship for biochemistry. They take ten students from high schools across the state and the lead expert running it is Dr. Bruce Banner.” Bucky looks at Pete encouragingly, when he falters at the name. “It’ll give us college credits and help with some of the scholarships I’m hoping to go for. And my school’s got enough of a flexible schedule for the two days a week off campus. Plus, it’s really cool!”

Steve’s grinning down at the kid, and even Bucky’s smiling a bit from how into all of this Pete seems to be. “Steve, you wanna help him look it over?” Bucky prompts. 

“Yeah, come on,” Steve makes his way over to the table, where Clara’s elbow deep in her research. Pete gets up and glances back to his spot for a second, but seems to decide if Steve’s telling him to move then he might as well.

Bucky leaves them to it, grabs some coffee, and goes to talk to some other people in the house, though there’s only a few - Deena, who helps them out at the youth center, Roy, cleaning his equipment out back, and Gen, who’s taking a break from some paperwork. 

By the time he’s back at the table it looks like they’re just about done and Pete’s made a couple small improvements; not to mention he’s no longer nervous about getting Steve’s help. He does, however, turn into a deer in the headlights when Steve asks, “You want me to write you a recommendation?” He’s pointing to the bottom of the form where it suggests providing a couple.

“Um, based on what?” Pete’s eyes trail around the house, as if silently reminding Steve that they can’t exactly mention the Roshars. Bucky’s still not a hundred percent on what Pete does for them, but mostly he’s lookout and keeps an eye on the house. It’s a good job for a kid. 

Steve snorts a laugh, and Bucky’s tempted too. “We can say you work on my house in the summers, take care of the yard, look after my car, watch my dog, whatever. You’re hardworking, smart, and resilient, all of which is true. It won’t be a problem.”

Pete just blurts out, “You don’t _have_ a dog!” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t the point, but okay. Not the dog thing. Can I write you that letter? You gotta put me down in your work experiences, though, if I do.” Pete thinks it over but eventually scrolls back up to the relevant section, and writes down a bunch of fake tasks he supposedly does for one Mr. Steven Rogers. 

Steve looks ecstatic to be able to help, and makes some adjustments to Pete’s made up job before patting him on the back and telling him he’ll get that letter by tomorrow. 

◆

Bucky gets the call a week later, when he’s curled up under Steve’s arm, basically one with the couch at that point in the day. At first he thinks Bruce Banner wants to borrow another book, maybe one on Renaissance paintings that he’s flipped through once when he picked it up near Steve’s record player, and was bored and curious. But the guy just wants to talk to Steve, and then leaves a message about how he has an applicant to his internship program who turns out to know Steve, too - what a coincidence!

“Here, let me call him back from your phone,” Steve holds out his hand. He never wants to give out his number, understandably so, so that part’s not a surprise, but him wanting to make the call himself sure is. 

“Pete’s a lucky kid,” is all Bucky says. He listens to Steve gush about Pete, with a few lies about his summer job peppered in, and makes a note to tell Pete everything Steve said so they can keep their story straight. He hangs up with the promise to see Bruce at the benefit in a couple weeks.

“Hey, do you still want me to go with you to that?” Bucky suddenly asks. It was one thing to go as Steve’s PA, but with whatever they’re doing now, he can see how Steve maybe wants to keep his personal life away from what is essentially the public. 

“Uh, yeah. Do you- Did you change your mind?” He can already feel Steve tense up underneath him, and Bucky’s quick to placate his slow building panic with a chaste kiss. 

“No, I’ll still go. I just didn’t know if you’d want people seeing us together.” Bucky does his best to keep his tone neutral, because he honestly doesn’t give two shits one way or the other. It doesn’t sound like Steve does, either. 

Steve shrugs, dislodging Bucky a little, but remedies it by pulling him even closer right after. “I’d still like you to come, help me avoid some people, keep me company, talk to some crooked politicians.” Bucky rolls his eyes, and Steve smiles into the side of his head. “I don’t really care if anyone sees us together or not. But if you’re not comfortable-“

“Hush,” Bucky pulls Steve down for a long drawn out kiss. “I was just asking, it’s kinda my job.” Steve smacks him lightly for that. 

◆

△

Steve’s been fucking his PA. It was a foregone conclusion, really. 

The more and more time he spends with Bucky, the less he thinks with his dick and more with the squishy ball of feelings in his chest. Well, he still thinks plenty with his dick when it comes to Bucky - Steve always catches himself staring at his profile, the high cheekbones, the adorable dimple on his chin Steve wants to lick, at his long deft fingers, and his slightly curling hair where it falls over his piercing gray blue eyes. And yeah okay, he stares at his ass, too. Sam and Clara keep catching him at it and he pretends not to notice. 

He also starts to notice that Bucky might see him in the same way, and it’s not hard to figure out. He blushes easily, and always looks anywhere but at Steve when he’s obviously thinking about something less than professional. 

Steve would think it was purely physical if it wasn’t for the fact that he doesn’t feel this way about people often. It’s rare that he’s so strongly attracted to someone, and he knows it’s because Bucky’s got a bit of a smart mouth, and has shown time and again that he somehow cares for the shitty, misshapen human formed disaster that Steve is, just exactly that and not whatever semblance of a somewhat functioning person he tries to project into the world. Poor bastard, he should’ve tied his heart to someone better. 

Regardless, Steve finds himself with the pleasure of having a remarkable young man let him stay by his side, loving on him and making him laugh until he scrunches up his nose or settles into giggles. All of it fills Steve up with so much emotion, he feels like bursting with it. 

That night he’d kissed Bucky, the guy had been giving him a hard time about one thing or another. Steve couldn’t possibly say what, because he was working himself up like he does sometimes and his mouth was just so fucking red that the next thing Steve knew, he was licking into it and he’s got an armful of whimpering Bucky chasing after kisses and grinding up on him.

Steve just hopes Bucky keeps letting him stick around.

▽

◆

Bucky does end up going to the benefit with Steve. They take a car that Steve never uses, and Leo, one of the Roshars, drives so that they don’t have to let the valet have access to the vehicle at any point - a safety measure.

The event’s at a hall upstate, a property of Stark’s even though it’s not his event or Stark Industries’. “He owns and rents out so many buildings in New York,” Steve explains. It’s a press heavy benefit, with a lot of well known faces - both New York famous and Hollywood names. Bucky’s so fucking glad Steve got him his tux. 

“We’re not doing the carpet, but we’re passing through, so we go straight into the hall, okay?” Steve reminds him, and Bucky nods, earning a kiss to his cheek. He thinks it’s cute how concerned Steve is for him, but then the door opens and _holy fuck_ are they _trying_ to blind him?

Steve slides out and then helps him climb out, before slipping Bucky’s hand on his arm and holding onto it, thankfully grounding him. They exchange a glance, and stride through the crowd in a straight path, not letting the screaming press take more pictures than they can from the couple of seconds they pass by. 

Bucky’s surprised by how _loud_ everything is. He can’t imagine how unbearable the noise must be for Steve. He said once he’s gotten used to it, his tolerance levels out after a while - air raids were one hell of a crash course. 

They make good time across the carpet, despite the yelled out demands of reporters for one thing or another, and enter the hall without much fuss. It’s a large venue, the sides of the room lined with granite topped bars and balcony doors leading outside. Closer to the front of the room, where there’s a moderately sized stage and a podium, round tables are elegantly set and adorned with name cards. 

Steve already had a full dinner before they left the house, but Bucky’s sure he’ll happily scarf down whatever’s on the menu tonight. They make their way to the side of the room, towards one of the bars, only having to stop and make nice with a few people on the way. As soon as they get there, Steve leans against the counter while Bucky gets comfortable on a stool.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, fully aware of how tense Steve’s been since the moment the car door opened. He asks for a couple glasses of Coke, because he’s on the job, technically. 

Steve takes a sip before letting out a long sigh, and Bucky rubs his shoulder and the side of his neck in the hopes that it’ll help let out some of the tension. Steve shoots him a soft grateful smile for the effort. “It’s just a lot, every time.” His displeasure at having to deal with any of this is coming off him in waves, and Bucky wishes there was something he could do to make him not have to be here. 

This Steve is different from the laid back, confident man he is around the Roshars. With them, he’s in his element; he knows when to be playful and when to be assertive: He’s respected and he’s known, and he knows he’s among friends. Steve still knows how to work this very different crowd, but it’s like putting on an ill fitting suit. Bucky can tell that he hates how it feels, and it’s taking a lot out of him. 

If Bucky had any delusions about going out with Captain America, it would surely crumble now. Captain America’s some stage character with bad, pre-written lines and a cheesy theme song. Captain Rogers is a mask Steve puts on now and then so he can help people every year or so when he’s needed. None of them is the guy Bucky’s been steadily falling for.

All he can say is, “I’m sorry,” because he is. Steve seems to get it and rewards him with a peck on the cheek, and tries to settle in against the bar. “Are you gonna point out which government officials got Sam’s number on speed dial?” Bucky asks to try to make Steve laugh, and it works.

Steve gets his laughter under control before anyone looks over, but he does subtly point someone out in the crowd. Bucky presses his lips together to tamp down on the giggle, and takes a look at the man across the hall - a senator Bucky’s read about a couple times.

It takes all of ten minutes before they see Pepper making a beeline for them in a stunning dark green suit. “Steve, it’s so good to see you!” Pepper brings Steve in for a hug and cheek kisses and then shakes Bucky’s hand. “James, I hope you’re doing well.”

Pepper must have brushed up on his name from the resume he sent in, and he appreciates that she took the time to look him up at all. “I go by Bucky actually,” he adds offhandedly, and waves off Pepper’s apology. “I’ve been great, thank you. Steve tells me the property’s yours, it’s lovely.” 

Bucky can small talk his way through most things, and Pepper gives him a knowing smile, from one former PA to another. “We’ll be sitting over there,” she points out seats a couple tables down from the front. “Dinner won’t be until 8, so we’ve got a little under an hour until then.”

Tony Stark ambles over, in a black tuxedo, with barely there patterns that are only visible when he shifts around. It looks outrageously expensive; just what you’d imagine him to wear. “Cap! Hey, you’re actually here! It’s like spotting a peacock in the wild.”

Steve heaves a sigh so deep Bucky wouldn’t be shocked if he started choking. “I don’t think that’s a saying, Tony.” 

“Tony, this is Bucky,” Pepper steps in, before things can devolve further. Bucky doesn’t expect a handshake, and he doesn’t get one. Tony flashes him a smile, one he’s sure he’s given out countless times tonight, and looks him up and down. Bucky tries not to fidget. He’s in the custom made tux Steve got him a while ago, a dark grey number that compliments Steve’s dark navy attire perfectly, and he knows he looks damn good. It had been hell peeling Steve’s hands off of him when they were getting ready.

“Bucky,” Bucky turns around to see Leo, who’s slipped in through one of the balcony doors and handing over the car keys. They had told him to park by the private residence around the side, where Stark - or more likely Pepper - had provided all the Avengers space so their valet wouldn’t take too long at the end of the night. Not that the valet is coming anywhere near Steve’s car, in their case. They’re driving home on their own, though, so there’s no need for Leo to hang around for hours.

“Oh, right!” Bucky pockets the keys, and Steve pats Leo in thanks. “Have a good night!”

“Better than you two,” Leo counters.

Steve snorts and shakes his head, grumbling out, “Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” Leo slips back out with a jaunty wave. 

“Who the hell’s that guy?” Tony looks after him, and Steve ignores the question, ordering a drink for Pepper instead, handing it over with her gratitude. Steve hasn’t told Bucky much about Stark, or any of his Avengers teammates really, except in passing when any of them gives him a call. He seems to like Bruce best, if the back and forth of book exchanges are any indication. And Pepper, too, he seems to respect, and at least likes enough to remember her preferred drink.

Pepper also has no qualms ignoring Tony. “You should talk to some people, Steve, they’d love to get a second with you.” Steve’s smile is so pained even Pepper pats his hand. “I know, but just 20 minutes total, 30 tops, and then you can hang out at the bar until dinner starts.” Steve reluctantly straightens up, but tries his best for Pepper, and tells her he’ll see her in a bit when they sit down to eat. He helps Bucky down, then leads him around the room with a hand at the small of his back. 

They talk to some politicians, a couple CEOs, a few military guys, and one or two athletes, all of whom are delighted to talk to Steve. Steve is pleasant, charming even, but anyone who knows him can see it’s all a bit put-on. Bucky starts being able to tell who knows who Steve is, by the tightness of their smiles, the inevitable flick of the eyes towards his ring somewhere in the conversation, and sometimes the little bit of fear that’s crept into their voice. Well, at least now he knows who Steve’s got the real dirt on with that last one.

Steve introduces him as Bucky, always some part of them touching unless he’s shaking someone’s hand. He’d asked if he usually goes by James in settings where he isn’t with friends, and Bucky told him no, it just happens to be his legal name, so Steve’s following his lead. They settle at the bar not too far away from their table as soon as it’s been 20 minutes on the floor without too much suffering, except for the one guy who’d clenched his jaw at the sight of Steve’s male companion, and Steve turned ice cold in that way that he does. 

So, minor speed bumps, but mostly smooth sailing after a little coaxing to not strangle that Colonel because _we are in public, Steven._

“You know what I realized?” Bucky comes up with a hilarious take that he’s sure will scar Steve for life, but will at least lighten the mood. Steve hums in question, and an evil grin starts taking over Bucky’s face. “Pepper was Tony’s PA.” Steve furrows his eyebrows, the _…okay?_ clear in his features. “Give it a second.”

Sure enough, it starts to dawn on Steve and the horror’s setting in. “Oh _god_ , are you saying I’m turning into Tony?!” he whisper-shouts, though by the flush on his cheeks, Bucky knows it’s taking everything in him not to start blowing his top off in some mixture of outrage and disgust. 

Bucky cackles, and Steve’s indignation is slowly turning into laughter too. They’re attracting a few stares, and Steve shushes him, quite loudly, and it’s just making Bucky have to tamp down on a new bout of laughter. “I kinda hate myself,” Steve shakes his head in shame once they calm down.

“Hey!” Bucky protests in mock offense.

“Oh, honey that ain’t what I meant,” Steve pulls him in, kissing the side of his face. 

“Better fucking not be,” Bucky grumbles, and is mostly just joking around. 

Steve looks down at him, expression so adoring Bucky wants to hide his face in Steve’s chest. “You know you’re more than that for me, right?” Bucky nods, because Steve’s said as much, even if it was never in so many words. “I’m serious, it ain’t nothing like that. I mean it.” 

“Oh, seriously?” Bucky teases. “I’m nothing like how it was between Tony and Pepper where they fell in love and got married and she got to run his business empire?” Steve splutters, and Bucky laughs in his face, because messing with Steve is just too much fun. He gives him a conciliatory peck, before finally putting him out of his misery. “I know what you meant, Steve. I care a lot about you, too.”

Steve kisses him gently, firing up the simmering ball of warmth Bucky’s got lodged in his chest, and beams down at him, all crinkly eyed and soft looking. Bucky can’t even pretend that he isn’t incredibly stupid for this man. 

Steve indulges Bucky and points out a couple more people in bed with the Roshars, until Bruce comes over and greets them with hugs. “Bucky, it’s good to see you again!” He’s met Bruce a couple times when dropping off Steve’s books, and the man’s always sweet, even when he’s just on the phone. 

“How’s that Impressionist Art treating you?” Bucky asks, and Bruce doesn’t bother amusing him, because he’s figured out that Bucky keeps bullshitting whenever he talks about art.

Even Steve’s got a despairing look on his face. “Buck, that ain’t- never mind.” Bucky’s glad he’s given up before he gets in too deep. It’s what’s good for him.

“I wanted to tell you,” Bruce starts, then purses his lips, then tries again. “Well, I _can’t_ exactly say, but the applicant you recommended for my internship program has very good chances!” He practically bursts in excitement, unable to hold it in. 

“Really?!” Steve’s not doing much better, on the balls of his feet and sporting a goofy grin. 

“His grades are very impressive, and he’s got loads of off campus work that demonstrates his abilities, I can’t wait to meet him.” Bruce catches himself at the last minute. “…Or not meet him.”

Steve laughs and claps him on the back. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing. I’ll wait until he brings it up to congratulate him.” Bucky can’t help but get excited himself. Pete’s going to be ecstatic when he gets the news.

“That’s good, that’s good. Do you still see him often then?” Bruce asks, and Bucky would be worried about the coming questions if he doesn’t know that Steve can lie so smoothly.

He talks about Pete’s semi-weekly visits to take care of his yard, because “I can’t for the life of me get the motivation to do it myself,” Steve shrugs abashedly. Bucky only knows it’s all a tall tale because he’s seen Steve haphazardly mow his own lawn every couple weeks. He’s actually _terrible_ at it - the whole thing would be much better if porch kid actually _did_ do that particular chore for him.

“Steve!” Bucky turns towards the booming voice, and for fuck’s sake, how is this guy always popping up everywhere? Thor’s by their side in a few seconds and bringing both of them into a bear hug. Jane’s right behind him, and gives a much more sedate hug once they’re out of Thor’s clutches, with extra cheek kisses for Bucky. 

“Thor, I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” Steve sounds so relieved that he’s got at least one actual friend in the crowd tonight. Bucky gestures at Jane to go down the bar with him to check out some of the finger foods, and she links their arms together and leads him away. Steve should be okay for a little bit with Thor.

“How are you and Thor here?” Bucky can’t help but ask. He isn’t as close to Jane as he is to Darcy, but they’re close enough, actual friends who hang out regularly with their other friends and text each other now and then. He never has to pretend with Jane, or in this case, hide his curiosity. 

“He’s an ambassador’s son,” Jane tells him, and okay yeah that makes sense. He’s probably got connections worldwide, and maybe even a little more leeway with some legal systems, perfect for what he does. Thor keeps surprising him.

“How’d you meet him anyway?” Bucky wants to ask more, like d _id you know he’s friends and works with Steve Rogers the entire time?_ but this is quite possibly the worst place for that kind of talk.

Jane goes all smitten, like she’s flashing back to a particularly fond memory. “He crashed one of my lectures at the University and came up to ask me a bunch of questions after. I asked him out for dinner and the rest’s history.” Bucky wonders why he’s never met Thor before, if Jane’s been seeing him that long, and the question must be written on his face because she huffs out a laugh and says, “He travels so much I haven’t been able to bring him around to meet everybody.” She asks after a pause, “You like him, right?”

Bucky softens, and tightens his hold on Jane. “I don’t know him that well but he seems like a good guy. Darcy said so too, and you know she’s always right about these things.” Jane laughs and agrees, and they go to demolish a whole platter of teeny tiny snacks.

Thor and Jane find their own table when it comes time to sit down for dinner, and Bucky’s finally subjected to all the Avengers at once. 

Clint nods at him in acknowledgement, having talked on the phone a couple times, and they exchange the cursory greetings, introducing his kid sister who he’s brought as his plus one, Kate. Natasha Romanov looks a bit perplexed to see him there, but says hello anyway. She doesn’t say anything about the person sitting next to her, but the girl pipes up herself and tells the table she’s actually Kate’s girlfriend, America, and is making use of Natasha’s extra ticket. He meets Bruce’s wife, a landscaper of all things, who’s just as genial as her counterpart.

Tony’s eyes rove over everyone when he takes his seat, until they land on Bucky and he asks, “Who are you?”

Steve looks like he’s about to spit out some less than savory words so Bucky cuts him off. “We literally just met at the bar, Tony.” Pepper apologizes for her husband, and Bucky shrugs it off.

“Cap doesn’t usually bring anyone to these things,” Tony says, unapologetically. 

Natasha chimes in from across the table. “What happened to the other brunette? You only brought her the one time.” Bucky keeps his expression neutral, but silently wonders who it might’ve been. He figures probably an ex, and he doesn’t mind, everyone has exes, but he’s curious, whatever.

Steve immediately disabuses him of that notion, though, when he says, “Clara.”

That sure wasn’t what he was expecting, and before he can stop himself, blurts out, “Fuck, Steve, what’d you have to do to get _Clara_ to go to one of these things?” Steve snorts, and shakes his head. 

“She did it mostly to piss Sam off, partly out of pity after he bailed on me for like the third time in so many months,” Steve says as the first course gets served. It’s not that big of a portion, and Bucky thanks whatever powers that be, that Steve had a large dinner before coming here. The five course meal would just about make Bucky full, which means it’s nowhere near enough for Steve.

“Hmm, you’re right. I, too, would do most things to piss Sam off,” Bucky acquiesces. 

“I know none of those people,” Tony helpfully informs them, as if he needs to be included in every conversation. It’s only a little annoying. 

Steve, in what must be a characteristic move, turns to Clint to catch up instead, not heeding Tony’s protest. “How’ve you been, Clint? Your greenhouse coming in okay?” Clint tells him about the different kinds of plants he’s been trying to grow, not always successfully, and offers to make him a bouquet once he gets the hang of things. Bucky thinks he likes Clint, if only for his amateur thoughts on floral arrangements.

“What about you, Cap? We didn’t hear from you for longer than usual this time around,” Clint prods, and the conversations at the table between the others slow down and quiet in an effort to see what Steve will say. 

Steve blandly smiles and shrugs, “The usual, fixing up the house, helping out a few neighbors. Maybe I’ll take a trip soon, check out a tropical island or two. What do you think, Buck?” he deflects perfectly and raises zero suspicions. It sounds almost too boring to be true, but he has such an earnest look on his face. 

“I’m partial to the Caribbean myself,” he admits. He imagines going on a boat trip, just fleetingly, and thinks about how much it’ll fuck with Sam, letting out a giggle. Steve nudges him and furrows his eyebrows, so he asks, “How mad do you think Sam would be if we went on a boat trip without him?”

Steve bursts into a laugh, startling a few people with the sound. Bucky tries his best not to wonder about how rare it is for Steve to _laugh_ around them that they react with surprise, and fails. What a fucking downer of a realization. “We should do it anyway,” Steve says with his trademark shit eating grin. 

He turns to Bruce to ask about the courses he’s teaching this year at the University, the same one that’s running his internship program in tandem with Stark Industries. They talk a bit more in detail about what the internship’s designed for, the kind of things students will be able to take with them coming out of it.

America chimes in with a resounding, “That’s very interesting, Dr. Banner.” Bruce looks over at her and blanks out briefly, before nodding in agreement. Kate looks to be jostling America’s leg under the table, and only stops when America shoves her away. 

“She really admires your work,” Kate offers only slightly awkwardly, and Clint covers half his face with his hand. 

“Uh,” Bruce looks like he’s at a bit of a loss. “Thank you.”

Steve takes pity on the poor girl and prompts, “Are you thinking of applying for the internship, America?”

Bruce’s face clears up. “Oh! Yes, you should, it’s still open for a few more days.”

America fidgets with the napkin on her lap and shrugs, “I don’t think my school’s equipped for the two days off I’d need to be off campus.”

“Where do you go to school?” Bruce asks, face turning into a frown. “I was under the impression most schools would accommodate the schedule.”

“Brooklyn.” America’s eyes flit over to Steve for half a second, and at once Bucky knows that she’s well aware of who’s sitting at the table with her. There’s no way Steve didn’t catch that, but he looks cool as cucumber. He’s been with the Roshars since the fucking 30s, Bucky should be less impressed by something as small as _not giving away the fact that he’s one of the heads of a crime organization_ , honestly, he’s so dumb sometimes. 

“We’ve got a few applicants from that borough, why don’t you apply anyway and maybe your school will work with you once they look into the program,” Bruce advises, and America gives him a small smile. Kate, on the other hand, is grinning from ear to ear, and Bruce continues to ask America about her interests and extracurriculars.

Pepper ropes them into talk about an outreach program she’s developing, and even Tony’s contributing relevant insights, making for a perfectly civil and borderline enjoyable dinnertime conversation. Pepper tries to convince Steve to be part of the initiative; lend a bit of a boost with his Captain America involvement, but he makes casual noncommittal comments that come off as very friendly brush-offs.

Bucky can’t imagine walking the tightrope that Steve does, mindfully rebuffing requests, deflecting probing questions, and maintaining his carefully crafted persona along with working relationships with these people. Especially doing it over any significant lengths of time. 

He can easily see why Steve only does these events every now and again. 

◆

Things catch up to them in the unofficial post-benefit cocktail hour, in the guest house at the private residence. 

The benefit had gone on as expected, more schmoozing, donations, speeches, and lots and lots of handshakes. Thor and Jane find them towards the end and they stick together, in an effort not to cut and run before the thing wraps up.

The night doesn’t end with the benefit, however. Tony invites everyone on the Avengers’ team over to the guest house for a cocktail hour, and even gets Thor and Jane to tag along. Those two mostly agree because Steve’s giving them the most pathetic puppy dog eyes. No man stands tall when faced with something so powerful.

Clint gives a token protest, pointing out that he’s got his kid sister and her girlfriend with him, neither of whom can drink. Tony tries to tell Clint that whatever delusion he has that his sister’s never had a drink is absolute bullshit, but eventually says, “Fine, fine, they’ll get mocktails, jeez, and I thought _Cap_ was going to be the downer.”

It’s an okay time, and they have some fun since Thor and Jane are around, allowing Steve to relax a small amount. Natasha joins them for a short-lived chat, asks Bucky about how his job’s going, and he vaguely describes interpreting and passing on requests and other matters to Steve, “Who _unfortunately_ can’t commit to a lot, it’s too bad, really.” She eyes the intimate way he and Steve treat each other, just as everyone else seems to at some point in the night, but doesn’t say anything.

He’s not sure where the conversation’s going, especially when Natasha tries to engage with Steve about baseball of all things. Maybe she’s just a really big sports fan, it sure sounds like it, on top of an attempt to bond or whatever this whole thing is, but Bucky knows for a fact that Steve doesn’t follow any of it, because he’d confessed to Bucky once that he just liked how the guys look in those pants. Bucky can’t blame him, he feels the same way.

Besides the kind of weird sports talk, everyone chills out and unwinds. They’re lounging on the couch, most of them sitting around and talking amongst themselves, Steve and Thor listening to Clint tell them about a trick he once did on an off road motorbike. Bucky feels his phone vibrate, because that thing always needs to be on if he wants to keep his job, and it’s Sam calling him. He can already tell something’s wrong, if he’s calling so late _and_ on a night he knows Steve’s got a Captain America thing scheduled.

Bucky slips out from under Steve’s arm, a casual smile plastered on. He gestures to his phone and steps away to a corner, picking up. “Yeah?”

“Bucky, get me Steve, I need his ass down here like an _hour_ ago,” Sam hisses through the speaker, and Bucky calmly walks over to Steve, still smiling, though trying his best to project _CODE FUCKING RED_. He doesn’t know what code red is, they don’t have any fucking codes, but it seems appropriate for the moment.

“Steve, there’s a call for you.” The deliberate way he’s said it and handed the phone over is enough of an indication, and Steve tells him thanks, and takes the call outside. Bucky efficiently starts packing up, mostly picking up their jackets and putting away their dirty glasses, making sure none of it seems rushed. At one point, they can hear Steve raise his voice through the door. 

It’s then that he pulls out the car keys and heads outside, pulling the car around so that they can get the hell out of there as soon as possible. He leaves it idling and gets out, their jackets tossed in the backseat, and makes his way inside through the front just as Steve returns through the side door. 

“I gotta get going,” Steve tells Thor, but it’s clearly meant for the room in general. He quickly hugs Thor and Jane goodbye, and spares a wave to everyone else. “I’ll see you guys soon.” He looks like nothing’s the matter, except that Bucky’s already waiting for him by the door, though he tries his best to be inconspicuous. 

Thor looks like he wants to follow, help with whatever’s come up, and he _does_ say, “We should go as well, it’s quite late,” and makes quick goodbyes. The rest of the group is dispersing soon enough that when they make their way out, everyone else is as well. Thor tries to pull Steve aside, presumably to offer help, but Steve discreetly shakes him off, and the less than inviting look on his face has Thor backing off immediately. 

Steve tosses Bucky his phone back, which shows Sam still on the line, and jumps in the driver’s seat, Bucky promptly ducking in. He takes a second to halfheartedly wave in the general direction of everyone else, but rapidly backs out of the driveway, turning into the road sharply and then pulling away in a flash. 

It can easily seem like he’s just a regular less than careful driver, but Bucky knows better. By the time they’re farther down the road, Steve’s really pushing the car as fast as it can reasonably go, and even then Bucky can tell he wants to push it farther. 

“We should go change cars at my place,” Steve tells him, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. 

Bucky picks up the phone and sees if he can get anything from Sam, or if things are going to keep going downhill from here. 

◆

Bucky should’ve known it had to do with the Chicago mob, with how tight Steve’s clenching his jaw and the Irish Gaelic he’s muttering under his breath, as he always does when he’s really pissed and someone’s going to get the brunt of it before the end of the night.

Apparently a couple new faces had walked into one of their gambling joints, but instead of paying the buy in and joining a table, or leaving when it was made very clear they wouldn’t have the night they came for if they didn’t make themselves scarce, they slipped into the warehouse in the back.

They were a muscle spasm away from bleeding out at the hands of a dozen trigger happy Roshars, but then the guys spotted what the uninvited guests brought. Somehow, the two had some of the stolen product that was meant to arrive through Daniels’ guy, with markings from the Chicago mob. 

The guys down there were ready to shoot first and ask questions later, but no one wanted to be responsible for starting a war, especially when it had anything to do with Steve’s now notorious, hated, old not-friends. 

Steve’s temper is discernible from a mile off, and everyone can see it as soon as they arrive, keeping well away. There’s more people from the Roshars than Bucky anticipated called in, probably just out of sheer panic that there are two people presumably from the Chicago mob in their warehouse. The gambling out front looks to be running as usual - at least none of this disturbed business too much. 

Steve’s usually got a piece on him at all times somewhere on his person, but he clips on a couple more from a stash under the seat of the car - now the regular they’d quickly switched back to at Steve’s place before hightailing it over here. Bucky’s positive they clocked at least a dozen speed enforcement cameras, but he’s learned by now that they can easily get rid of those infractions. 

“What, we got twenty guys around and _no one_ can keep two fully grown adults from waltzing in?” Steve barks out as soon as Sam and Clara come out to meet them and double back in. 

No one catches his eye. Sam works his jaw and says in a level voice, “It’s weird shit, Steve. They want to work for us.”

“What?” Steve almost stops altogether. “Nah, we don’t do that.” Having people in someone else’s operation is sticky at best, dangerous at worst, and untrustworthy at all times. Whatever happens tonight is already going to push them teetering closer to the edge of peace with the Chicago mob - deliberately messing with them unprovoked would just be stupid.

Sam relays what he’s learned so far, since getting frantically called in and finding a man and a woman no one wanted to touch for fear of making things worse between Steve and the Chicago mob, and of what kind of wrath it’ll further rain down on them after letting any of this happen in the first place. “Said they’d just been brought into the country less than a year ago, but then got treated like shit and forced into some pretty ugly things.”

Steve hums like none of it surprises him. “Sounds about right.”

“Heard about us, and you, when they lost those guys when we found out about the stolen shipment, and decided to jump ship. Took what they could of the product still left lying around, hot wired a fucking truck a couple miles out and drove all the way down here.” Steve looks at Sam like he’s gotta be shitting him, but Sam just keeps going. “Sniffed out one of our joints to get a meeting with a Roshar, I doubt they expected anyone like me to show up, much less you. They don’t seem to understand how insane it is for them to be coming from the Chicago mob.”

“Any of it true?” Steve pauses at the doors, looking between Sam and Clara. 

“Dani combed over everything,” Clara says. “Can’t tell much about the whys and hows, but the timeline checks out. Barely had anything on them, too. One sidepiece with half a sleeve of ammo.”

Steve looks conflicted, but enters the warehouse looking just as angry and commanding as he did when he first showed up. Bucky sees the flicker of shock when Steve gets closer to the two people holding onto three crates of product. They’re just kids, barely twenty, looking so out of their depth that Bucky’s gotta give them props for keeping upright as they take in who Steve is. 

It’s obvious they’ve caught on, between the palpable tension in the air, Steve’s tangible, stormy fury borne out of irritation, stony features, and the unmistakable ring on his finger. Steve eyes them for a long minute, until he finally asks, “You got names?”

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” the woman says, perhaps giving up more than advisable, unused to what’s just not done at these things - unless you’ve already got a relationship going. It won’t matter with Dani checking them out, but there’s etiquette.

Steve doesn’t react one way or the other. “What do you want? We don’t got time for deserters.”

The woman swallows audibly but keeps her head held high. “We want to work for the Roshars. My brother and I will do whatever, but we know you treat your guys well.” The man beside her pushes one of the crates forward the tiniest bit, as if symbolically handing it over. 

“We think this is yours.” His voice is harsher than expected, the vowels not as round. 

Steve simply quirks his eyebrow, not that dissimilar from when Bucky met him for his job interview, he can’t help but note. “Can’t buy your way in,” he tells them. 

“We’re not asking to _buy_ our way into the Roshars,” the woman almost snaps, but quickly reins herself in at the scathing look she gets from Steve. “We’re _asking_ for your help. These are just a gesture of good faith.” The sound of a wailing baby suddenly pierces the air, and everyone’s heads whip around to the back door. 

The man, Pietro, starts shouting unintelligibly in another language. The guy bringing the baby in calmly walks over, telling Steve, “Found the baby in their truck.” Without a second thought he hands over the bundle to Pietro, and his sister Wanda’s shielding the kid with her body like she’s worried someone will come back to take it away. 

Steve sighs, “We got no interest in keepin’ you from your baby.” Bucky’s just as relieved to hear that, and so fucking glad it doesn’t seem like anyone in the room is tempted to leverage that kind of power either. The guy got the baby back to its caretaker as soon as he found it, didn’t he?

Wanda turns back to him and vehemently gets across, “I’ll do anything, I’ll be one of your working girls, I know you take care of them.” Bucky’s almost taken aback that she knows that much, because it’s true. Sex workers in the Roshars get excellent benefits, especially for health, and get their fair share of the cut. It’s good legitimate work under the responsible people Rita and Steve’s got handling that business. These two must have really done their research before embarking onto their, admittedly, foolhardy plan of escape. 

Steve purses his lips, and starts seeing their desperation, and why. A newborn always pushes you into trying to better your circumstances. “We don’t take unwilling people for that kind of work,” Steve admonishes. Bucky can see Wanda biting back her words about how _willing_ she is, but wisely keeps quiet. Forcing yourself into something like that would still be unacceptable in Steve’s book. 

“We don’t have papers,” Pietro offers up, still clutching onto the baby. It may seem like another foolish move on their part, but it’s smart to an extent. It’s partly another plea, but also lets Steve know that they’re pretty much at the mercy of the Roshars. They can work for them to get papers, or work for them because they don’t _have_ papers. 

Steve looks so tired by this whole exchange and signals something to Sam. Sam gestures at the guys nearby and they start taking away the crates, Wanda and Pietro flinching away when they get close to get at the product. 

“We’ll set you up with a room,” Steve tells them almost softly, and then looks at Deena by the side of the room. She comes over and ushers them away. Wanda’s trying to go back to Steve, to talk him into taking them in, but Deena redirects her and explains that they’ve got a place to stay for now and she’ll hear more later.

Steve heads back out towards his car, with Sam and the rest of the guys following. The other Roshars are still giving him a wide berth, almost trying to blend into the background of weeds and concrete. “Dani, check them out again, records on the kid, what they did and information they might’ve picked up.”

“Already on it,” Dani says. “So far, not much, if anything. They don’t got any real info on the Chicago mob. Hopefully that’s all we find, means no one will come looking for them,” he shrugs, already onto Steve’s line of thought. 

“Wait a month, at least,” Steve orders. “Keep an eye on what comes up, if they’re really not getting any heat, we’ll have them do deliveries and anything small. For now make sure they’ve got the essentials, especially the kid.”

“Papers will be ready in a couple weeks,” Clara reminds him, already knowing they won’t keep that card in play. Steve nods, and perches on the back of the car they’re leaning on. 

“Of all the fucking days for Rita to be on the other motherfucking coast,” Steve says into his hands, and Bucky comes in close to rest a hand on his back for comfort. “Sam, change out the guys here.”

Sam grimly nods, like he knew it was coming. “How long?” Steve gives him a worn out look, almost pleading. “Alright, dealer’s choice. I’ll make sure the message is loud and clear by the time they come back around.” Steve leans into Bucky’s embrace, but groans into his hands one more time. “Tonight’s that bad, huh? What, was Stark worse than usual?”

Steve looks up and announces, “I’m fucking starving.” With that, Bucky leads him over to the passenger side door and goes to drive home. After everything, even _he_ can really use a bite to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers gets hangry, you heard it here first, folks.
> 
> If there are thoughts in your head, I wouldn’t mind hearing them.  
> Look forward to more in the very near future.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more feelings? the other things are here too, i guess.
> 
> Meraki_Moli works her magic once again as a beta.

Steve’s been tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop since the debacle with the Maximoffs. Bucky can see him hoping it’ll die out, not just to keep anyone from getting hurt, but also because he’s starting to like Wanda and Pietro. He can also tell that the other guys see it too. 

Dani, Clara, and even Sam, have been doing regular visits to the little studio they’ve got Wanda and Pietro situated in, getting everything straightened out, grilling them to a degree, and helping them settle in. Bucky gave them their papers two weeks ago, along with the ones they need for the baby. Turns out it’s Pietro’s, no mother in the picture, only two months old. 

It’s little over a month after the Maximoffs turned up, which means Steve’s about to start giving them small jobs to do, never at the same time, so someone can always take care of the baby. “Make sure it’s nothing big,” Steve tells Roy for the third time, tapping his fingers against the table. Bucky can see that Roy’s so close to telling Steve off with how much he’s hovering. 

“Steve,” Bucky pulls at one of Steve’s arms and drapes it across his shoulders, pulling him away from Roy, who shoots him a grateful look. “Come on, Pete’s got some news.” At the mention of porch kid, Steve tears his attention away from Roy’s papers, a hopeful look on his face. 

Bucky nods in confirmation, but brings a finger up to his lips so he’ll keep quiet. They’re not supposed to already know that Pete’s getting the internship, and the kid’s been bouncing around trying to keep his excitement in long enough for Steve to wrap up and have a minute to himself, so he can share the happy news. 

They’re at the house waiting for Deena to bring in Wanda and Pietro, so they can pick up a few jobs as requested and familiarize them with the house. They haven’t been before, Sam making sure they lay low for as long as possible. 

Bucky all but herds him to Pete’s window seat, where the poor kid is sitting on his hands in some effort to not go back to wandering around. “What’s up, kid?” Bucky prompts. Steve is honestly not doing much better than Pete. For a guy who can keep his cool in practically any predicament, he’s almost overtly leaking joyful anticipation. 

“I got the internship!” Pete jumps up in delight, and Steve’s already making his own happy noises before the sentence is even out of his mouth. Steve releases Bucky to bring Pete into a crushing hug, and bounces on the balls of his feet a little. “It starts in a couple weeks and I’m actually going to _meet_ Dr. Bruce Banner!”

Bucky can’t blame him for the excitement. Bruce is pretty cool. “We should celebrate!” Steve exclaims. He’s truly a degree away from jumping up and down and clapping his hands, which is pretty close to what Pete’s already doing. 

“Hey, did I hear that right? You got the job?” Dani joins them from the kitchen where he was getting some work done. Pete doesn’t bother correcting him on the details, just nods and launches himself at Dani for a celebratory hug. “Steve’s right, we gotta celebrate!”

With that, he goes around the house to spread the news, and everyone comes around to offer Pete their congratulations, and then goes to get the plethora of food stocked in the fridge. The beers come out soon after, and Steve lets Pete have just the one.

In the middle of all the frenzy, because Pete’s one deeply and widely adored kid, Deena and the Maximoffs arrive, the latter of which look a little taken aback by the merriment. 

“Hey!” Sam hobbles over, going for a hug and then stopping short when he sees the baby in Pietro’s arm. “We’re having a little impromptu party cause Pete’s got the gig he was going for!” When they’re still at a loss and fairly subdued - though it makes sense, they haven’t been around the Roshars that much - Sam steers them towards Pete with an exuberant, “Right, you haven’t met everyone yet! This is Pete!”

Once the Maximoffs are filled in on why everyone’s drinking and celebrating when it’s only about to turn six in the afternoon, they get introduced around, and the baby gets so many coos of endearment you’d think she’s the guest of honor. The siblings are still wary of Steve, but he gives them friendly enough smiles and offers them the platters of sweet and savory treats now laid out on the table. 

Steve pulls Bucky in, looking up at him from his seat, and Bucky gives him a long affectionate kiss just because of how happy he looks. He plops down and gets comfortable on Steve’s lap, leaning into the embrace as those arms settle around his waist. Hanging out at the house with everyone is always the best way to spend an evening, and tonight’s extra special. 

The Maximoffs shuffle off to schedule their jobs, but come back with Roy in tow not long after. Bucky suddenly realizes he has no idea what the Maximoff baby is called, and asks, “What’s the baby girl’s name?”

Pietro gives him a small genuine smile as he tells them, “Erica.”

Bucky can feel Steve smile against the side of his neck, and then lean forwards the slightest bit to get a better look at Erica. “Hi there, Erica,” he almost whispers, and then laughs when she scrunches up her face and stretches. Steve’s got the dopiest look on his face, and when he looks back up at Bucky, he gives him another long kiss, just enjoying how warm it all makes him feel.

Steve’s brought so much tenderness into his life, which was something Bucky could never have expected. He’s never been happier to be proven wrong. 

◆

It happens at the worst possible moment. Steve’s fucking him through the mattress, hard enough to bruise the backs of his thighs and move the bed frame with every thrust. He’s running his mouth like always, grunting out, “Buck, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful, prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Bucky moans continuously, hardly able to even hear the sounds he’s making with how lost he is to everything _Steve_. He loves being caged in like this, encompassed by Steve’s body and his words pouring hot wax all the way down his spine. 

Steve’s kissing him open mouthed, biting lightly at Bucky’s bottom lip and muttering, “Always feel so good, honey, can never get enough of you.” Bucky buries his hands in Steve’s hair and _pulls_ , just to try to keep his brain from melting, and Steve scrapes his teeth down his neck, soothing the sting with his tongue as he goes. 

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky mewls, throwing his head back and digging it into the mattress, “Steve, you’re perfect, so perfect, I love you,” and he’s grabbing at whatever’s under him because it feels like the universe is imploding, he’s so close to coming. But then Steve stops, lifting his head to look down at him, and Bucky can’t _believe_ the jackass is stopping right now to look deeply into his eyes or whatever the fuck. “What-?” he starts to ask, and the last ten seconds come back to him like a freight train. 

At the expression on his face, Steve gives him a peck, and looks down, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s fine, Buck. Don’t gotta mean-” and _oh_ , Bucky wishes he can wipe that look off his face, and then realizes he sure as fuck can.

“I do,” Bucky professes. “I mean it.” He just wants to get rid of that heartbroken look Steve’s trying to hide, because _he loves him_ , and more importantly, never wants to cause it again for even a second _because he loves him_. For fuck’s sake, he loves Steve so fucking much, this impossibly wonderful man he’s been lucky enough to know and _love_. “I love you,” he surges up and kisses him, properly, curling his tongue against Steve’s and pulling him in further by the jaw.

Steve makes a sound like he’s startled but gives in easily, and consumes him just as fiercely until they have to break apart to breathe. Bucky can already see the question back in Steve’s eyes, so he just starts kissing him all over his face, the way that Steve loves to do to him, declaring, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in between each peck until Steve laughs in his face. 

“I love you too, Buck,” Steve beams down at him, so brightly Bucky is tempted to look away, but no, this is the man he loves and he’s going to see this through with both eyes open no matter how scary it is. “So much. I love you so much.”

Steve captures his mouth once again, and starts moving his hips, slower but just as powerful, and the feeling’s intoxicating, winding him up all over again. He can see Steve’s face all twisted in pleasure, mouth open in a gasp, his swollen, pillowy lips still with that furrow that Bucky loves to nibble on, and he thinks this is the best sight he’ll ever see. 

They make love at a more languid pace but just as vigorously, an intensity thrumming beneath their skin all through the night until Bucky can’t move his limbs anymore, and lets himself be manhandled to Steve’s favorite cuddling spot, already half asleep. 

“I love you,” Bucky hears through the fog in his head, whispered into the crown of his head. He thinks he mumbles, “Love you,” into Steve’s collarbone, but he’s dead to the world as soon as his lips stop forming the words.

Bucky doesn’t wake up to scruffy Steve. 

What he does wake up to is Steve at his most _Steve_ , slowly making his way into the bedroom carrying a giant tray, with a ridiculous amount of plates balanced precariously on it. He places it gently on the bed, obviously not realizing that Bucky’s woken up, and then slips back under the covers, finally turning to look at him. 

“Bucky!” the moron actually cries out in surprise. He immediately comes down for a soft lingering kiss, which Bucky can’t help but revel in. “Good morning, honey,” he rumbles, and then pecks his mouth one more time. 

Bucky pointedly looks at all the food, and then back up at the idiot he’s somehow chosen to love. “Are you seriously depriving us of morning sex for bacon?” Steve _actually_ looks conflicted, flicking his eyes back to the tray, and Bucky laughs, which is as sure a sign as any that he’s completely gone on him. “You’re lucky I love you, Steve.”

Steve breaks into a fond crinkly eyed smile at that, all previous deliberation between boyfriend and bacon forgotten, pulling him in for another kiss, the goofball. “Luckiest guy in all of New York,” he grants. “Lucky you let me love you back,” he says against his neck, peppering kisses down across his shoulder, and Bucky has all intentions of pushing him away because _wow_ Steve is so fucking much sometimes, but his body just melts instead, the traitor. 

“If you’re going to choose breakfast foods over me, I better have something greasy in my mouth in the next five seconds that isn’t your tongue,” Bucky warns, and Steve scrunches up his nose as he laughs, but does shove a piece of perfectly buttered toast between his lips. He tears off the piece and gives a solemn nod. “Good to know you take instructions well.”

“I’ll show you taking instructions well,” Steve grumbles, and pounces on him.

“Steve, the food!” Bucky shrieks, and they spend the next hour eating off of the bed.

◆

Thor’s in town for the month, so they’ve been seeing a lot of him, mostly for business, but today he’s decided to drag them out dancing. Sam decides that it’s the perfect opportunity for them to pop in at one of the clubs the Roshars own anyway, so they’re at the house waiting for Thor to wrap up some business with Rita, having a couple drinks. 

Riley’s visiting, so Sam’s got his cuddle partner on the loveseat. He’s washing down noodles with iced tea because, as Bucky’s learned, Sam is such a lightweight that Riley hardly ever drinks - not that the guy minds. 

Pietro’s on the couch, Erica drinking from her bottle in his arms. The Maximoff siblings have taken a liking to the house, usually choosing to hang around when one of them’s out on a job. They’re all listening to Pete tell them about his day at the internship, where he’s been at for about a month now. 

Bruce seems to like him, having him work on a couple extra projects he gets overtime for, and he’s made friends with America, who ended up applying and getting a spot herself. “And our supervisor, Rick, had to clean up all those chemicals cause he’s the only one that’s got traini- oh look at her!” Pete derails his own story at the sight of Erica vomiting up her milk. 

Bucky’s not sure how, but she makes something so gross look borderline cute. Pietro expertly cleans her up, replaces the cloth with a clean spare, and situates her back in his arms. “She’s so precious,” Steve whispers, almost talking to himself, all googly-eyed at the baby. “Aren’t you, Erica?” he coos.

Pietro’s not as comfortable with Steve as everyone else, which Bucky can’t blame him for. Steve can be scary sometimes and the other Roshars have at least known him for years, not to mention been subjected to stories about him all their lives. Still, he shifts his hold on Erica and asks, “Do you want to hold her?”

Steve looks astonished by the offer, and the display of trust. “I-” He’s already reaching out, but is clearly hesitant and unsure about how to cradle the baby. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to walk me through it,” he gives Pietro a sheepish smile.

“Not a problem.” Pietro rearranges Steve’s arms and lays Erica down gently, as Steve holds his breath. She wails a little, but Pietro shushes her, stroking the soft hair on her head. “It’s okay, baby girl, this is Steve. He’s not so bad.” He flicks a nervous but teasing look at Steve, who laughs with relief. Bucky knows Steve prefers the Roshars don’t fear him - at least not for the wrong reasons.

Pietro lets Steve hold his daughter and play with her little fingers for a while, as they alternate between listening to Pete’s stories and turning into baby talking piles of mush whenever Erica does anything remotely interesting. Thor finally emerges from the back, and they say their goodbyes to the kids and take off. 

Jane meets them already in line, but they wave her over to get out and all say hi with obligatory kisses. The bouncer had said something into his earpiece as soon as he saw Steve’s car, and by the time they get to the entrance, a member of staff is ready to escort them to a booth in the back where there’s already a few chilled bottles to choose from. Steve and Sam disappear for a while to the bowels of the establishment, and Bucky goes to dance with Jane, while Thor chooses to hang back and drink with Riley. 

He hasn’t gone dancing in a while, usually out to bars and restaurants with Steve and the guys, or his sister and their friends the past few months. He enjoys dancing, though, especially with Jane, who’s surprisingly amazing on the floor, and more importantly always _fun_. She’s in a little emerald dress that’s leaving little to the imagination, and Thor had fawned over when he first saw.

In between laughing and shouting along to the lyrics - thank fuck they’ve got a decent DJ with actual good music and not just monotonous tracks of thumping bass - Bucky yells out, “How’s it going having Thor around so much lately?” Over the years, the two of them have mastered the art of having a conversation in various settings, even when they can barely hear each other speak.

“It’s been fantastic!” Jane enthuses. “Especially all the sex!” Bucky laughs in delight, glad his friend is so happy. “What about you and Steve?” Jane wiggles her eyebrows. “Is he as freaky in bed as he seems?”

Bucky squawks, because sometimes he forgets that Jane’s best friend is _Darcy_. He should be used to these kinds of questions by now. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he remarks coyly, and gets a disapproving glare. “I’m not gonna give you details!” he protests, but gives in and allows, “The watchword is _stamina_.” Jane giggles, but sagely nods along like that’s exactly what she expected. “And you know I’ve always been flexible,” he can’t help but brag. Jane’s still getting a kick out of all this, so he goes on, “For Halloween I dressed up as a cheerleader for a _private party_ ,” he wiggles his brows imitating his friend, “and he was _very_ appreciative. Sometimes I surprise him with this black, lacy number and he gets-”

The girl to his right turns to look at them with such a cutting yet knowing look, and Bucky clamps his mouth shut. “Dude, everyone can hear you!” she helpfully lets him know.

Jane just shouts back, “That’s kind of the point!” but laughs and then drags the both of them away. They find everyone back at their booth, and Bucky drapes himself over Steve, when something occurs to him. “Wait, was the place where we met one of yours?” And then he realizes, “Were you working that night?”

Thor and Jane are understandably lost but Sam cackles, already pouring everyone something to drink. “Your man _ditched_ me to check out the place by myself when he saw you pulling those moves like you were tryin’ to reel in anything with a heartbeat.” He narrows his eyes and points. “I see you and your ways.”

Bucky sticks out his tongue because yeah, he was aiming for some dick, but it _worked_ didn’t it? The sentiment must come through somehow because Sam flips him off. He turns to Steve, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “Isn’t that like drinking your own champagne?”

Steve scoffs. “I don’t think that even remotely applies, Buck.”

“I thought it was ‘eat your own dog food’,” Sam takes issue with the saying.

Bucky raises his eyebrow and takes offense, “Do I _look_ like dog food, Sam?” Sam sees an opening and gears up but before he can come up with a scathing remark, Bucky declares, “I am champagne anywhere I go, through and through!”

Sam laughs and surrenders, settling back onto Riley. Thor seems content to stay out of the loop but Jane is looking at him searchingly, probably already figuring it out. Bucky downs a couple drinks in a row to avoid acknowledging her silent question for the time being, and turns back to Steve to pull him up to dance. 

They all troop onto the dance floor, mostly sticking with their partners. Steve won’t let him out of the circle of his arms but Bucky doesn’t mind. He’s got no intentions of leaving, perfectly thrilled with the moving wall of muscles Steve provides. They get glimpses of the others now and then, but not much; even when they go back to the booth so Bucky can grab a drink or two every few songs.

Bucky gets kind of really drunk knowing, as he’s discovered, Steve will always be sober to take care of him kind of lets his inhibitions go. They’re back at the booth to take a breather but Bucky _loves_ this song, and he’s whispering the lyrics to Steve, peppering kisses all down his neck and behind his ear. 

He pulls himself onto Steve’s lap, resting back on his heels, and comes up with the splendid idea of giving what is essentially a lap dance. He starts moving to the beat, undulating his torso and letting his hips roll and create friction sporadically. 

The older man looks up at him in reverence, and Bucky shoots him a wicked smile. “Buck, honey,” Steve runs both hands up his thighs, the heat of his palms scorching through Bucky’s skin tight jeans, blazing a path all the way over his ass and around his waist. Whatever he meant to say is lost to his mind when Bucky jumps off the perfect seat of his thick thighs and wedges himself in between them instead.

He keeps going, circling his hips and letting Steve’s heated gaze fuel him, turning around to show off the view. The hands around his waist waste no time in falling to his hips, not controlling but firm, slipping beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt when it lifts up to show a sliver of skin. He hears Steve give an involuntary groan at one point and goes to sit back on his lap, still facing away from him, legs bent and bracketing Steve’s on either side.

He can feel Steve’s hard length against his ass and shifts to more prominently push against it. “Buck, oh god,” Steve breathes into his neck, and Bucky places his own hands over the ones clutching at him, helping move his hips in a consistent purposeful grind. 

“Bucky, you’re- you’re-” Bucky would love to know the end of these sentences but he’s too busy working in single-minded focus to take Steve apart. He lets him mouth against the underside of his jaw and muffle his gasps into Bucky’s skin. The hands on him are tensing up and gripping harshly, so Bucky lifts himself off and turns back around, then drops onto his knees. 

He goes directly for Steve’s fly, letting the sudden urge to have him come in his mouth take over. “ _Oh, Bucky,_ ” Steve grabs the cushion under him in surprise, jaw already hanging open at the sight. “Buck, oh fuck, please.”

Bucky doesn’t have to hear what Steve’s begging for to swallow him down without a second thought, moaning when he swirls his tongue in time with the beat. He works with his hand to pull out all the stops to get Steve off as fast as possible. He’s not really in view of the rest of the club, obscured by the giant table in front of the couch and by way of the location of their semi private booth, but they’re exposed enough that Bucky would like to get this show on the road. 

It takes Steve a few short minutes to finish, with how Bucky’s been dancing against him all night to rile him up. Bucky swallows every single drop and swiftly tucks him back in. He peers up at Steve looking absolutely debauched, head thrown back against the back of the couch but watching him darkly through his lashes. 

Bucky all but scrambles up, licking into his mouth and moaning in satisfaction, as if he’s the one who’s just had a spectacular orgasm. “Are you done, honey? You got what you need?” Bucky whines, Steve’s words stoking a flame in him as always, and pants against his jaw. Steve caresses his back in soothing circles, but it’s doing nothing to curb the desperation running through his veins. “Alright, come on, let’s go.”

Steve stands him up and keeps him upright, briskly leading them out of there and then hailing a cab, leaving the car for the others. He’s not sure if Steve leaves them a text or even a call, but by the next morning all he remembers is the way Steve wrecks him as soon as they get home. 

◆

Bucky comes back to the waking world feeling like he’s been run over by a semi. He would come up with a joke about being plowed by _Steve’s_ semi, but his temples are throbbing too much for lewd remarks no one outside of his head will hear anyway.

Cracking his eyelids open is a monumental task but he’s strong damnit, so he forces himself to take in his surroundings. It’s already late, Bucky doesn’t need to check the time to know, and Steve’s side of the bed is cold. A shaft of sunlight peeks out from behind the curtain and, like a sign from above, casts a path to a couple glasses of water and some aspirin on the bedside table.

Bucky thinks he mutters, “Oh thank fuck,” but it’s also possible all he gets out is a grunt. He downs the water, realizes he’s finished all of it before taking the aspirin, and dry swallows them instead, grumpily pouting at himself because he’s _dumb_. Bucky may be a little dramatic when he’s sick - or in this case, hungover.

He’d like to burrow down in bed and never leave but he feels like he’s got a layer of filth all over, some of which he’s sure is come. He’s lazy but not gross, so he heaves himself up and out of bed, resenting Steve a little for not being there to pick him up like he does most days, and puts in the effort of turning into something resembling a human in the bathroom. 

Bucky’s taking this awful, horrible, no-good morning one step at a time, so he decides the next thing he needs should definitely be coffee. He leaves the bedroom only to find the guys out in the living room, Steve, Clara, and Dani working on the couches, and Sam at the kitchen island. 

“Buck, morning!” Steve stands up to come over and give him a kiss, and Bucky manages to keep his grimace of pain to a minimum.

Bucky holds out his hand to the others, in an effort to prevent any loud welcomes they may have in mind. “Shh, just let me- coffee.” The others mercifully take him in with nothing but amused smirks and he shuffles off to the kitchen. Sam is face down on a stool, an empty cup of coffee and pile of toast abandoned around where his head’s rested. Bucky’s a mess himself but Sam looks half dead. “Man, you okay?”

“Mrph,” is all he gets in return, and Bucky fills up Sam’s cup along with his own. Bucky didn’t really see how much Sam drank last night but the guy gets wasted with just a few drinks, and he’s absolutely certain he had more than that last night. 

Bucky sits down next to Sam, gulping down his drink as fast as the heat will let him without scorching his throat, and even then he burns his tongue a little. Sam turns his head so he can see him, and proclaims, “Bucky. We must punish Steve and Riley for not suffering with us. They show no loyalty.”

“Hey!” Steve shouts from his armchair, and Bucky and Sam simultaneously shush him. “That’s not our fault,” he says at a much lower volume. “You didn’t _have_ to drink so much, you can’t blame this on us.”

Sam looks at him, and waits for his decision. Bucky drinks the last of his coffee, decisively puts it down, and tells him, “Sorry, Sam, the guy writes my checks.” Sam harrumphs and turns back to the table. Bucky looks into his empty mug, across the room to the guys, and back down. He gingerly gets up for a refill, steals a piece of toast, and tells everyone, “Yeah, I can’t do this, I’ll be in bed today,” walking back to the bedroom.

Sam finally lifts up his head, indignant. “The _rest_ of us are working, why do _you_ get to go?”

Bucky just hollers back, “Didn’t you hear? I’m sleeping with the boss!” and slams the door behind him. The thunderous sound of the door closing is worth it for Sam’s affronted squawk, and the following rumble of Steve’s unrepentant, “Well, he _is_.”

◆

△

Steve’s had a good few months. Great, even. Really, it’s longer than that, ever since Pepper brought Bucky into his life.

He should really send her a fruit basket or something. Maybe champagne, one of those really expensive bottles someone fancy like Pepper drinks. He should ask Bucky to do that.

Which brings him back to Bucky, as most things do these days. They spend most of their time together, naturally, because Bucky works with him, but he’s also been staying at Steve’s most nights. 

Hanukkah and Christmas are coming up, and he wants to ask to spend it together, but he’s not sure what plans Bucky may have with his sisters. Maybe he can have them over too for the week. He’ll have to ask. He doesn’t want to intrude or disrupt anything. He knows how close the Barneses are. He’s had dinner with them a few more times while Alice is in town, now that she’s able to visit more often.

Steve would go to one of Bucky and Becca’s breakfasts too, but those seem sacred. Bucky’s never asked him to come, and Steve knows it’s the few times a week he keeps free for his sister. 

Steve uncurls from his hunch over the drawing table and stretches, having spent most of his day there, when he gets a text from Bucky. 

**_heading over now im getting groceries on the way so ill be a little over an hour love you_ **

Steve gets a little mushy even just seeing the little _love you_ Bucky says through text. God, he’s hopeless. “Oh!” he remembers the champagne. **get champagne! good champagne. expensive champagne. 1 bottle pls.** He pockets the phone, cleaning up to then go shower and get ready, but pulls it back out to add, **for pepper, not me. gift!** He’s putting the phone away again but then remembers to add, **love you too!**

They’re heading over to Stark Tower today, because there’s some paperwork he needs to sign, and they need it before Christmas break. He can even hand deliver Pepper her thank you gift! He won’t exactly say _thanks for hooking me up with Bucky_ , but he hopes the sentiment gets across. 

By the time he gets out of the shower and dressed, Bucky’s already waiting for him, flipping through one of his books - a detective novel set in the Victorian era. He remembers that book, it was bizarre. He warns Bucky, and then gets them on the road. 

“You know Pete’s over there right now at his internship?” Bucky points out as he fiddles with the playlist Steve’s got playing through the car speakers. Steve doesn’t mind whatever comes up, but Bucky has very specific mood-based tastes. He spends almost everyday driving around with the guy and he still can’t figure out what the logic behind his picks are. Right now he’s got _Hey Ma_ , which is - a choice. Steve’s just not sure what about this particular trip is inspiring the selection.

Steve drums his fingers against the steering wheel anyway - it’s a fun song. “Oh yeah, you think he’ll want to come back with us?” He goes to take a left, gets cut off, and leans on the horn. Bastard. 

“Let me ask.” Bucky fiddles with his phone for a while, before triumphantly announcing. “Yes! And he’s asking if his friend, America, can hitch a ride too.”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiles over the console. 

“So what’s with the champagne?” Bucky asks, turning in his seat to grab the boxed up bottle from the back. “I got her some real fancy shit.” Steve can feel his cheeks heat up. He can’t exactly say _I’m thanking her for bringing me you_ , can he? Even for Steve that’s a little cheesy. 

“Um, just for all her help,” Steve says instead. It’s not technically a lie. “You know, it’s the holiday season, seems like about the right time.” Okay, now _that_ was a lie. Bucky side eyes him like he knows Steve’s not telling the truth, and he probably does, but lets it go. 

They go through the back and to private parking, taking the elevator straight up to the main lounge they all usually use when at Stark Tower. He gets Bucky to tell Pete to meet them up there when he’s done for the day, which shouldn’t be too long from now. 

“Steve!” Pepper’s already on one of the couches, stacks of paper on the table for the team to sign. “How are you?” They meet in the middle for cheek kisses. It’s been a few months since he’s seen her at the benefit. He watches her greet Bucky and treat him with just as much familiarity. 

“I’m great, Pepper. I’ve been doing real good, and you?” He follows her over to the couch, where he can see at least Clint’s signature on all the copies laid out. “Hopefully not too busy and getting down time when you can?”

Pepper huffs a little. “When I can get it, yes, but not a lot.” She settles on the couch and hands him a pen. “Just sign where your name is and we’ll have everyone else do the same.” She checks her watch and looks over to the entrance to one of the corridors. “They should be here by now.”

“Oh, I think Bruce is still working with his interns somewhere downstairs,” Steve tells her as he signs where he needs to, when Tony comes in looking tired but happy, followed by Natasha in a hoodie and jeans, carrying iced coffee. 

Tony clasps his hands together when he sees them, like he’s getting ready to tackle a giant task and not just sign a few documents. “Cap! Cappy! Gracing us with your presence!”

He can hear Bucky mutter, “Cappy?” and Steve doesn’t need to turn to his left to see he’s probably got his nose scrunched up at the new, and truly awful, nickname. 

“Oh, hey, you’re back too!” Tony takes notice of Bucky. “Thought he was gonna disappear you like he did the last brunette he brought with him.” Bucky snorts, and Steve has to look down to bite down on his laugh, because he knows Bucky wants to make a comment about the people Steve actually _has_ disappeared, to use Tony’s word.

“Tony, you and Natasha should sign these, and then I can get extra copies for all of you once Bruce does as well.” They listen to Pepper, and she heads over to the kitchenette, probably for something to drink. Steve follows, grabbing the box of champagne Bucky’s got ready. 

“Pepper, we got this for you,” Steve tells her when he gets to the counter where she’s brewing her tea. Pepper takes the box and regards him carefully, like it’s odd for Steve to be gifting her something. He’s not sure what that says about him. “Just a little thank you, for- um, all your help.” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “With everything.”

Pepper gives him a genuine smile, with a touch of amusement, and stares like she can see right through him. He used to think Pepper figured out who he is, in terms of the Roshars. She never indicated as much, but he’s looked her up - as he does everyone - and she didn’t grow up the way Tony did. She clawed her way to where she is, and he knows no one gets so high up without getting a little dirty - even Pepper Potts. 

She even had a small stint in Brooklyn for a little under a year, before finally moving to Manhattan. Not long enough to hear a substantial amount about him apparently, but Pepper’s sharp, and not only that, she’s resourceful. She’s definitely not naive. At the very least, he knows she can always see the gears turning in his head whenever they’re in the same room, and she doesn’t treat him quite like the others do. 

He finds himself wishing he could recruit Pepper a lot when she’s around. 

“Thanks, Steve.” She lays a hand on his upper arm, eyes twinkling like she’s internally laughing at him. Huh, maybe the _thanks for Bucky_ sentiment _did_ come through. “It’s good to see you happy,” she cocks her head to where Bucky’s just been greeted by Bruce, Pete, and America. They’ve been more affectionate today than they were at the benefit, so he’s not surprised Pepper noticed.

“Oh,” Steve blushes, and then promptly brings his hand to his face, not quite hiding but tempted to. “I-” He’s not sure why he’s tongue tied, but the earnestness in Pepper’s tone is getting to him, and maybe it’s a little because she’s the one who introduced them - kind of. He doesn’t need to share the story of their actual first meeting. “Well, thank you,” he gestures at the champagne, which makes Pepper laugh, fully on board with the message he’s trying to send. 

Steve flashes her a grin as he walks away, to go say hi to the kids and Bruce, the latter of whom is now completing all the signatures. “Hi, America.” She gives him a tight smile, and he turns to Pete. “How did your project go today? Anymore exciting chemical disasters?” He can feel some of the others eye the two of them, probably wondering how Steve knows a 17 year old kid. 

Pete tells him about a small personal project that Bruce lets him explore every once in a while, when he’s done with his assigned tasks, and Steve does his best to follow along. Bucky must know he’s getting lost, though, because he soon redirects Pete and they get absorbed into a discussion with Bruce.

Steve looks around and can’t find Pepper, which means she must be getting them those copies and he can get out of there soon. He collapses onto the couch, soon joined by Natasha. “Hey,” he greets her genially. “Aren’t you cold?” he gestures at her choice of beverage.

“No,” she says shortly, but nothing’s suggesting that she’s bothered by the question, so Steve simply shrugs. “Did you get around to going to that tropical island?” 

Steve feebly laughs. “No, but it’s on my list, right under ‘grow a vegetable patch.’” Natasha appears mildly amused, so he calls it a win. “I’m gonna have to wait for the summer though, can’t plant anything with the snow,” he keeps going. “Maybe I’ll ask Clint if I can have a corner of his greenhouse, then I can-”

Natasha holds up a hand. “Okay, I get it, you _didn’t_ go on a boat trip with lover boy.” Steve lifts his eyebrows at the term, but lets it slide. Natasha looks away for a second, over to where Bucky’s talking to Bruce, then back at him. “You know, I didn’t take you for the type.”

Steve tips his head in question. “The type?”

“The type to fuck your young male secretary,” Natasha says matter-of-factly. Steve’s face hardens, and he lets his expression turn cold, jaw visibly clenching. He never shows how angry he is with Natasha, or any of the Avengers, but he knows how ruthless he can look just with a shift of his features. The realization must be dawning on Natasha too, because a shadow comes over her face; a little like regret and maybe a hint of fear, but nowhere near enough. 

“I don’t know why you’d think to know what I would or wouldn’t do.” Steve abruptly gets up, sees Pepper back with the copied documents, and takes one of his. “Thanks, Pepper, we need to get going.” He knows his voice is ice cold, but he doesn’t care. Bucky’s already grabbing Pete and America, seeing the tense set of his shoulders, but Tony’s suddenly exclaiming from over at the bar, “Aw, another hasty exit? You don’t even have a phone call bailing you out this time. Or are you just in a pissy mood?”

Pete blurts out, “What the fuck?” Probably because he’s never seen anyone talk to Steve like that, especially not without getting a minor body part broken. Steve herds him towards the elevator, Bucky and America on their heels. 

“I’ll see you guys,” he says by way of goodbye, voice clipped. He can see Natasha starting to get up from the couch, maybe to say something or maybe not at all, but he pushes the button to close the door and they get whisked away, and down to the parking garage. 

Bucky links their fingers together, loosening him up a fraction, and he heaves a sigh. He’s never been that close to Natasha - they don’t have that much in common except for both being incredibly busy - but they’ve always mostly got along, until today. It’s one thing for her to talk shit about him, but having someone see Bucky that way, as a thing he’s using and not the capable, incredibly valued person he is, really made him see red. 

He tries to unclench, and glances over at the others. Pete’s got his brows furrowed, probably peeved by Tony, but America’s so tense she’s probably pulled something. God, America’s here stuck with someone she’s probably heard admittedly glorified tales about, grinding his teeth like he’s about to snap. He puts on a friendly smile, and asks, “How about we get something to eat back home? America, you hungry?”

America still looks alarmed, but she juts out her chin like she’s rising to a challenge and says, “Sure.” Steve kinda likes this kid. 

▽

◆

Steve’s handling the car like he’s trying to pick a fight with every other driver on the road, tapping his fingers out of agitation and not because he’s appreciating Bucky’s excellent song curation. Bucky doesn’t know what happened back at Stark Tower, but Steve doesn’t get pissed off easy, or unreasonably - a rare quality in his line of work.

Pete and America are talking in the backseat, a little hushed, probably because Steve’s anger is palpable. He takes them to the deli, tells the kids to order whatever they want on him, and makes to leave. Bucky grabs his arm, frowning. “Just gonna grab a smoke, Buck.” Steve bends down and kisses his temple. “Save me a slice of pie.” 

Just like that, he goes out the back, and Bucky only lets him go because he sees Steve pull out his pack of cigarettes on the way. He decides to let him blow off some steam and they can talk about whatever it is later. “You should get pie after,” he tells America, who he can see is torn on what to get. “You been here before?”

Carl, the guy who runs the deli, is already bringing over Bucky and Pete’s regular orders. “No,” America says. “I don’t go to this deli.” Bucky flicks his eyes to Pete, who’s unaware of the conversation taking place and already digging into his meal. 

It’s clear what she meant. People know the Roshars like this place. He doesn’t know why he took America as _being from the area_. As in, somewhat associated with the Brooklyn Irish. 

Bucky wonders why America even agreed to get a ride to Brooklyn with them, if she’s so skittish around Steve. Probably because she couldn’t predict the guy losing his shit over something today. 

“Well, why don’t I order you one of the specials?” Bucky tries to exude calm. She nods, and he heads over to put the order in. When he returns, Pete and America are back to talking animatedly. 

By the time Steve joins them, he’s noticeably more composed, and they’re all gorging on pie, with a slice of peach pie set aside. At the sight of it, Steve gives Bucky a kiss and takes his first bite. “America, I’m glad to see you worked it out with your school, so your schedule can fit the internship. Pete’s told me all about how great the program is.”

America nods, chewing slowly before speaking up. “Pay’s good too. Decent, at least.”

Steve nods like he understands, and asks, “Where in Brooklyn do you and your family live?” 

“Nowhere near here,” America says tersely, and Bucky wishes he could say something that will let her know she doesn’t have to be on her guard, because Steve’s just trying to be nice, but this is well out of his hands. Steve keeps up his charm anyway, and gets a few stories about shenanigans she and Pete have gotten into, though America keeps going back in her shell every time she loosens up, if solely out of stubbornness. 

Bucky and Steve eventually get up to leave them to it, when Pete says, “Oh, I’ve got a chess set nearby, we can go over and-”

“Pete,” Steve says sharply, though not unkind. The kid just got carried away, he would never actually bring anyone to the house. Something about his friend being the only one who’s not part of the Roshars at the table must have thrown him off. 

Pete looks like he wants to smack himself in the forehead, but recovers quickly. “Or we can play cards right here,” he says instead. “I’ll walk you home later.”

“I don’t need anyone to walk me home,” America obstinately says. “Maybe I’ll walk _you_ home.”

“Okay!” Peter agrees without complaint.

“Alright, enjoy endless pie and drinks,” Steve says, ruffling Pete’s hair on the way and signaling to Carl to keep serving the kids. “It was good to see you, America. Say hi to Kate for me.” Bucky says his goodbyes and follows him out. 

As soon as they get home, he has Steve sit on the couch and sinks onto his lap, wrapping his limbs around the bigger man like he knows he likes. He says it makes him feel held and squishy. “You ready to talk now?” 

Steve groans and buries his face in Bucky’s neck. “Is nothin’” he mumbles, barely decipherable. Bucky just hums unconvinced, and runs his fingers through Steve’s hair until the guy starts purring like a cat. He can’t decide if Steve’s more like a labrador or calico. “Natasha just said something that was-” he clenches his jaw a little, and Bucky kisses his chin so he’ll ease off. “Rude.”

“Hmm,” Bucky rubs his fingers across the soft tangle of Steve’s beard, carefully cataloging his features to try and read him. “You usually shrug off whatever your teammates say.” It had crushed Bucky a little when he said it, but Steve had told him that he’s used to the way those guys look at him - not like he’s stupid, but not like he’s smart either. Definitely not like he’s capable of doing half the things he does. 

“Dunno,” Steve leans his forehead against Bucky’s collarbone, almost physically pushing him away from the subject. “Was different this time,” he mouths against the skin there, slightly tickling him. 

“Ah,” Bucky works out. “Something about me?” Steve stays silent, trying to distract him with kisses to his neck instead, which is as much of a yes as he’s gonna get. Bucky lightly pulls on his hair, to separate them so he can actually take him in. He won’t catch his eye, but Bucky just brushes his fingertips across the planes of his face, the arches of his eyebrows, barely there laugh lines around his eyes, the crooked line of his nose, and the tops of his cheekbones. Sometimes Bucky forgets how strikingly handsome he is - though it’s no small feat - because all he sees these days is the admittedly goofy yet assertive and caring man he is. 

Bucky tips Steve’s head up to look him in the eye by pressing his fingers against the underside of his jaw as he often does, and gets a huff of, “Buck, honey,” for his troubles. 

“Steve,” Bucky tries to reason with him. “I don’t give a fuck what she said, okay? You don’t gotta-” Steve’s squirming around, trying to avoid his gaze, so Bucky gives him a kiss to mollify him. “Hey, listen to me, I mean it. There is nothing that anyone I don’t care about can say, that will bother me. You don’t gotta get all worked up.”

Steve looks at him mulishly, brows creasing into a frown. “Yeah, well, it bothers me.” Bucky begrudgingly softens, and drops another kiss to the wrinkle on his forehead. “It just gets under my skin when someone- when they talk about the man I love like he’s less than. Is that a problem? _You’re_ the person I care about, Bucky, I can’t help it if I can’t just act like I don’t fucking mind. What, was I supposed to sit there and nod along?”

“Are you done?” Bucky asks, and Steve rolls his eyes, mouth setting into what is unmistakably a pout. “You know that’s not what I meant. But alright, I hear you.” He nips on Steve’s bottom lip and lets him deepen the kiss for a moment, before pulling back. “And I love you too.”

Steve smiles up at him and goes back to nuzzling into his skin, Bucky letting him take whatever comfort he can and sweeping his fingers across Steve’s back and up to his neck in his own gesture of affection. Bucky isn’t sure when it became true, but being in Steve Rogers’ arms is the safest he’s ever felt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time he’s not hangry, just straight up pissed. Sorry if your faves are acting shitty, even if it’s Steve, I can’t help it. 
> 
> Hey, hearing those thoughts might be cool.  
> More coming up!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holiday fluff is now here along with the other things. 
> 
> Beta reader Meraki_Moli is a true savior of this chapter, as always.

Bucky’s staying at Steve’s for Hanukkah, and devoting as much time to hanging out with his sisters as they’ll let him. Alice is home at Becca’s, Darcy’s away for the holiday season, but they all spend time at Steve’s, because he’s got a fully equipped top of the line kitchen - exactly what you need for this time of year.

Hanukkah with Steve is great because he’ll cook you everything you can ever think of, even the more obscure Jewish food of the Barnes family that he’s less familiar with. He makes them every dish under the sun and even introduces them to some very old Jewish food (that’s gone out of fashion) that he used to eat growing up. 

Bucky realizes how momentous it is to have his sisters spend Hanukkah at Steve’s when they first come over. He only then registers that they’re the first people who’ve ever been in the house since Bucky first started working for the Roshars, aside from Sam, the guys, and Rita. Steve keeps his place practically sealed shut, most likely for both privacy and safety, and even Thor and Pete never go inside. 

Bucky has a second to wonder if he’s crossing some kind of line, if maybe Steve didn’t mean for them to spend the week at his house, maybe he’s just being nice and they’re actually invading his personal space. But Steve is so excited to have the Barnes sisters come, he’s got gifts for everyone for each night, a menorah ready, and his industrial fridge is fully stocked. Bucky caught him eating some of the gelt ahead of time, looking only moderately guilty when Bucky wrestled the enormous pile away. 

Granted, some of the things Steve already had lying around, mostly for the house where some of the Roshars are celebrating - and where they’ll drop by when they can - but for all he cares, Steve’s readied the house just for him. Whatever, he can pretend all he wants. Steve’s even prepared the guest room for if the girls want to crash, and meticulously arranged a pile of Christmas gifts under the giant tree in the living room for all of them. 

When Bucky tells Becca and Alice that normally no one’s allowed at Steve’s, Becca whistles lowly. “Damn, Bucky, that man is serious as hell about you.” She bites into her sufganiyot, catching some of the drooping jelly just in time and saving Steve’s very expensive couch. “Also kind of strict.” Bucky shoots her a look like she’s missing something and Becca rolls her eyes, and acquiesces, “Right, Steve Rogers, the Roshars, everyone’s trying to get a piece of him, yadda yadda.”

Bucky takes a festive pillow and thumps her with it, careful to avoid her jelly stained hands. Actually, he’s not sure if it’s festive, it’s just blue. 

Alice makes a humming noise from Becca’s other side at the end of the couch, where they’re all piled. “He _does_ seem to like you a lot, Bucky.” Bucky shoves more food in his mouth in place of forming a response. “And this place sure looks a lot like it’s got you all over it.”

“It’s not that people aren’t _allowed inside_ ,” Bucky chooses to focus on instead. “It’s just that no one’s ever here that isn’t a select few people.”

“Including you,” Alice helpfully reminds him.

“Well, I work for the guy, I’m his _personal_ assistant, of course I get to be here.” He’s being a bit obtuse, but he’s starting to look around and even with most of the living spaces cleaned up, he sees Alice’s point. 

His books are scattered here and there, joining Steve’s own organized chaos, his clothes are laying on furniture ready for him to grab, both old well-loved coats and newer ones Steve’s gotten him, and most if not all his daily used possessions are tucked into different parts of the house. He’s even brought over his own knife set for the kitchen because sometimes Steve will hoard all of his since _I need all of ‘em at some point, Buck, I don’t even know what you’re making over there_. 

Alice earnestly says, “You more than work for the guy,” while Becca chooses to wickedly grin at him and point out, “Emphasis on _personal_.” He can see her about to make a lewd gesture and brings the pillow back out as a warning. 

“Ew, graphic,” Alice protests when Becca ignores Bucky’s less than effective weapon. She may have a healthy take on sex but anyone would be grossed out by the details of their older brother’s sex life, much less visual depictions of it. Bucky’s so glad Steve’s over at the house right now spending some time with the Roshars. “Seriously, Bucky, do you _live_ here?”

“No,” Bucky says honestly. “I just stay here a lot.”

Becca narrows her eyes. “Like how many nights a week?”

Bucky tips his head side to side like he’s thinking, and then mumbles, “Um, seven?”

“Bucky!” Alice yells, but Becca just acts like she expected it. 

“I’m not here all the time!” Bucky defends, because he’s _not_. “I work here so I’m here most days, and it’s just easier to stay, and I visit my place sometimes to clean up and make sure it doesn’t burn down or whatever.”

Becca raises her eyebrow. “You _visit_ your own place? Do you even hear yourself?”

Bucky finally uses the pillow on his own face, in an attempt to suffocate until he passes out and escapes this conversation. It’s torn out of his hands before he’s anywhere close, unfortunately. Damn Becca for trying to save him. “Look, we don’t live together, okay? We’re only been together for like 5 months!”

Alice contributes, “You’ve known him longer, though. You started spending all your time together like more than half a year ago by now.”

Becca points like she’s trying to make sure Bucky caught Alice’s excellent argument, and pipes up with her own, “ _And_ you slept with him like, _way_ before that.”

“ _What?!_ ” Alice screeches, and Becca covers her own mouth like she couldn’t believe she just let that slip. Bucky glares at her but he can obviously tell she didn’t mean to spill, so he doesn’t go to find another pillow to arm himself with. 

He ends up having to tell Alice about how he and Steve actually met, and he wishes he didn’t have to, especially once Alice rips into him about _keeping secrets_ , but at least it distracts them from their previous topic of conversation. 

Bucky can’t get it out of his head, though, how tangled in Steve’s life he’s become, and the fact that he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

◆

Christmas goes about the same, with a steady abundance of food and drinks, a simultaneously peaceful and lively few days. It all goes well except for on Christmas Eve, when after the girls have gone home for the night, Steve got drunk on his super booze and cried into Bucky’s shoulder about missing his Ma. That pulled a few tears out of Bucky too.

It was fine, though. After a little coaxing, Steve settled into bed with the promise of special Christmas cuddles and then proceeded to pass out on Bucky before you could even say Christmas blues. He wanted to call and ask Becca if she had any ideas for something he could do to cheer Steve up, but he didn’t want to bring up long passed parental figures lest the Barnes sisters turn into bawling messes too.

The next morning he’d recovered, and when Bucky expressed concern, had merely said, “Sometimes I just really miss my Ma. Just gotta let myself cry it out every now and then.” And hoo boy, does Bucky relate. 

Sometimes Steve’s scarily well-adjusted, with everything he’s gone through, but only sometimes. He’d confessed that he can deal now because a few years ago he’d been incredibly depressed for a while, the grief of everything he lost ceaselessly overwhelming him. Riley helped him work through it, as he still does now, Bucky knows.

They spend the time not spent with Becca and Alice over at the house, where a lot of the Roshars are celebrating; the place even more warm and joyful during the holiday season. Erica has her first Hanukkah, and gets a full set of hand-knitted gloves, hat, shoes, and blanket from Dani that are so tiny and beautiful Bucky doesn’t know how he doesn’t have carpal tunnel.

He meets Pete’s aunt, who he lives with, who joined the Roshars when she was a young woman herself. She’s an overworked and exhausted but endlessly kind nurse, who gets a spare few hours to have dinner with them before going on shift at the hospital. Bucky’s starting to see more and more why Steve has such a soft spot for porch kid. Take away eighty years and it’s Sarah Rogers with her own skin-and-bones dependent, who’s trying to survive by all means necessary. 

The big presents Steve pulls out on Boxing Day, just because it’s the last full day before Alice goes back to Boston. They all exchanged the last of their gifts the night before, but there were still a few wrapped packages under the tree that Steve insisted they leave behind for the next day, to supposedly _stretch out the festivities, I hate being all depressed after Christmas, Buck, just leave it_. 

Alice gets multiple sets of high quality professional athletic wear, which are apparently expensive enough for her to squeal, “Take it the fuck back!” at Steve, and then instantaneously clasp the boxes of clothes to her person. Steve laughs and tells her he isn’t going to take them away, and “You can let go now, Alice. Here, why don’t you put them in the guest room for now.”

He gives Becca fancy reference books for her work that she gives him cheek kisses for, and accepts with much more grace than her baby sister. Steve instantly melts, just like every time either of the Barnes women regard him with any sort of affection, from hugs to punching him in the arm because that’s apparently the kind of relationship they’ve built. 

Bucky gets… weird engine parts. He doesn’t really understand what Steve’s put in a box and wrapped for him, and he knows the guy can see the confusion in his eyes because he’s trying to hide his giggles and failing. “Um, I know you said you always wanted to learn how to ride, and all the things that come with having one. So I got you a partly built motorbike that you can finish up yourself. It’s at the garage, Grieves’ been keepin’ an eye on it at the space I rented, but you can deck it out however you like, and Grieves says she’ll walk you through whatever you don’t know.”

Bucky’s gaping a little at what is evidently a brake rod and an ignition circuit breaker. “You what?”

“I mean, you can just tinker on it if you want, there are like a million parts and I got no clue what they are, you can do whatever you want with them. Hell, give ‘em away for all I care you can just- well, if you do, at least sell ‘em to Grieves, she’d kill for those parts, they’re kind of rare and-“ Steve’s digging himself into a hole like he always does, and Bucky shuts him up with a kiss, because that’s the only way to stop his spiral sometimes. It’s an effective and very pleasant method.

“I’m not gonna give ‘em away, you doofus,” Bucky finally tells him when they pull apart. “This is so fucking cool, thank you, Steve.” He would think that the Old Holland oil paints he got Steve in a custom extendable pine box leaves something to be desired after this, except that he knows that’s not how Steve’s mind works. 

Steve comes in for another peck and whispers, “Course, honey.”

Bucky and Becca drop Alice off at the station the next evening and wallow a bit over waffles, but put in the effort to bounce back. Becca tries to get excited about the New Years’ party she’s going to with some of her grad school friends, and Bucky tells her about the Roshars’ own celebrations that supposedly lasts from the evening of the 31st and goes all the way until dawn on the 2nd. He’ll believe it when he sees it. 

◆

In the twilight zone between Hanukkah and New Year’s, work is pretty slow because everything’s running as planned. Possibly some combination of people not wanting to ruffle any feathers during a time no one wants to interrupt, and everyone having a few leisurely days themselves as well. Except, apparently, for Natasha Romanov.

The first few times she calls, Bucky gives her the patented, “Steve’s unavailable, can I take a message?” It’s what he always says, because no one gets through to Steve without Bucky screening it; if they ever get through at all. Nine times out of ten Steve will relay what he wants to respond with to Bucky, or tells him to dismiss it altogether. 

Natasha, however, does not leave a message. That happens sometimes. People assume they’ve simply caught him at a bad time and will call later, but after not getting through a few times, they get the gist and let Bucky handle whatever issue or request they’re calling for. 

Natasha does not choose to leave a message even after calling multiple times. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask for Steve’s personal number, as some people do when they think they need to get in touch another way. Bucky always has to slowly explain that this _is_ the number to reach him at and he hates breaking it down for them. Why would anyone think they can just call up and ask to talk to Steve Rogers? Especially when they’re in Steve’s line of work, because they should know better. 

When Natasha calls for the literal twelfth time, Bucky levels with her. “Look, Natasha, my job is to take messages and give them to Steve. He does not _touch_ this phone to talk to whoever calls him out of the blue. You’re wasting _both_ of our time here.”

“I _didn’t_ call out of the blue,” she spits out. “I’ve had your phone ringing off the hook for the past who knows how many days!”

“And you’re gonna _keep_ ringin’ this phone so much I’ll use it as a vibrator ‘till it makes me come, if you don’t _leave a fucking message_!” he explodes, already so over this whole thing. He’s still got his actual job to do, which isn’t dealing with Steve’s Avenger teammates. He has his suspicions about why she’s calling - something she’s never done. Chances are it has something to do with what happened the last time Steve saw her.

Natasha harshly lets out a breath at her end of the line. “I thought that was Steve’s job.”

“It is, so you better not take it away from him, or he gets really cranky. Now tell me, what’s your _fucking message?_ ” Bucky thinks he should get a bonus for every person who tries to reach Steve in the most frustrating and persistent of ways that he has to deal with. Maybe even a reward if he doesn’t curse them out. 

“It’s a personal matter,” Natasha mutters.

“Yeah, well, I’m his personal assistant, you’re in luck.” Bucky’s already turning his attention to some paperwork he’s pulled up on his laptop to get started on, because this conversation really doesn’t warrant his full concentration if Natasha’s not going to give him anything. 

“I was going to give him an apology, but he’s not even here, so-,” Bucky can almost picture Natasha saying resentfully. It’s disturbingly similar to how Alice would sulk around when she was in her preteens. 

“I’ll let him know you’re offering to apologize,” Bucky blandly tells her. “Happy holidays, have a good New Year’s,” he hangs up without waiting for a response. She should be glad - he usually doesn’t even give a proper goodbye, but the time of year is making him sentimental. 

Bucky tells Steve about Natasha’s calls, gives him the message, _as is his job_ , and he barely reacts. He knows Steve’s still unhappy with Natasha, and will be for a while, but Bucky would rather he didn’t have anything to fight about with the teammates that he has to work with. He’s far from excusing whatever it is, or expecting Steve to forgive her, but grudges are always heavier to carry around than you’d think.

“Steve,” he lays his palm on Steve’s knee, as he’s driving them to the garage for Bucky to work on his new motorbike, because his boyfriend is awesome at gift giving. “Come on, tell me what you’re thinking. Are you still mad?”

Steve shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “Not mad, really. I don’t know, guess we’ll just see when she does apologize.” Bucky kisses him on the cheek just because, then settles back in his seat to queue up the next song. He’s going for a vehicle themed playlist, which weirdly is not as easy to find when you eliminate all the country songs about trucks. He _does_ play _Before He Cheats_ because that song’s badass. It’s also fun to watch Steve splutter when Bucky tells him, “Just so you know, Steve, I fully subscribe to Carrie Underwood’s method of revenge and will do as she says when the situation calls for it.”

Steve gives a way too sincere guarantee of, “Aw, honey, I’d never.” 

Bucky pecks him on the corner of his mouth to let him know he’s teasing for the most part, but also declares, “I know which car you like best.” Steve smiles at him lovingly like he didn’t just get threatened. Oh, well. 

They spend hours at the garage, Grieves showing Bucky the ropes when he’s lost, and Steve busying himself by either talking with the other people working there, the Roshars carefree with him as they often are, or sketching anything that catches his eye. The range covers everything from weird projects the others are elbow deep in, to every part of Bucky in motion. 

He’s gotten used to the heavy gaze and lets it settle him, finding contentment in the feeling. He wonders if he’s ever going to stop finding comfort in the things that Steve does.

◆

The Roshars take over two pubs right next to each other for about three days for New Year’s. Well, take over isn’t quite true, since the place is theirs. Bucky believes the stories now, but he doesn’t see it. He might be in his twenties, but 50 hours of celebrations is way too much. 

He and Steve drop by around 9 pm, Sam, Dani, and Clara already situated in a corner booth and waiting for them. They drink some booze, eat some food, and he and Sam take some shots. He swears he’s not gonna get too wasted, though. He kinda wants to remember this.

They get to say hi to what feels like a hundred people from the Roshars, all of whom are jovial and having a great time, and quite a lot of them trying to single handedly empty the bar. Sam looks eager to join in, but Riley swoops in and puts a halt to that undoubted disaster. 

Some older guys come over to hug and shove Steve around, laughing uproariously at one thing or another, and then almost as one turn to him. “This is your fella now, huh?” One of them says, throws his arm around Steve’s shoulders, and gets jostled when Steve playfully elbows him. “We all know about you, kid, been takin’ care of things left and right.”

Bucky’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, so he just says, “Uh, hi.”

“You know, when he was your age,” one of the others chimes in, “He always dealt with business with his fists.”

“Or a bat!” someone else volunteers. 

“Yeah, yeah, a bat, he had this taped up bat that was just _falling apart_ -“ the second man goes on to say, and Steve runs a hand over his face.

“Alright, alright,” Steve cuts in. “He gets the point, Ray.”

“I ain’t even get to the point yet!” Ray insists. “So this asshole’s always payin’ with blood, but you, look at you! None ‘a that foolishness! You’re gonna do him good.” Ray clashes his glass against the one in Bucky’s hand, and then downs the whole thing.

That’s how Bucky meets some of the people Steve knows from the 30s, guys who must be in their nineties, drinking like there’s no tomorrow. 

Ray tells him some of Steve’s exploits from back in the day, and gets him snorting out his drink. The woman who mentioned the bat is kind of quiet, introduces herself as Mads, but contributes colorful commentary on the stories that make Steve roll his eyes fondly. The first guy that had talked to him, Neal, is the one to reign everyone else in and finally lead them away to “get through this New Year’s alive and then go the fuck to sleep, yeah? We’ll see if we wake up tomorrow.”

The rest of the night goes as expected, and he finds himself unbelievably happy. He can’t imagine what his life would be if he never stumbled into this weird hodgepodge of people that make up a family. He dances with Dani and Clara, with Gen when she comes in less than half an hour before midnight and already wasted, and of course with Steve. 

They watch the ball drop and count down to the new year, people spilling out into the streets to marvel over the fireworks, the chants of “10, 9, 8-,” roaring through the entire street, and the noise turning thunderous as the clock strikes midnight and everyone’s excitement peaks. 

He kisses Steve as one year turns into the next, trying to show him everything he’s feeling, the delight and care and fucking _love_ that he’s overflowing with - for Steve and for everything else that’s around them - hoping that he gets to keep and cherish this life he finds himself living for as long as possible. 

Some of it must come through because Steve’s breaking into a smile so wide he keeps trying to kiss him deeper once more and failing, laughing at himself. “I love you so much, Buck,” he says instead, holding onto Bucky like he’s something precious to treasure, and then settling for kissing him all over this face. “I’m gonna show you everyday, every single day, honey, I’m gonna prove it to you.”

Bucky giggles, because it’s just bubbling up and out of him, and Steve’s beard is tickling him everywhere he takes his mouth. He grabs onto Steve’s face and pulls him down for another long kiss, all tongue and a hint of teeth, and then breaking into a laugh out of pure joy. “I love you too, Steve. You got no idea.”

They spend the rest of the night celebrating with the rest of the Roshars, dancing and drinking and eating so many things, because it isn’t a Roshars party without an impossible amount of food. They make it until just a couple hours before sunrise then head home, with a detour to drop Sam and Riley off, the former of whom is already passed out in the backseat. 

Steve carries Bucky to bed just as the sun peeks through the curtains, and Bucky’s not at all stunned to find himself wanting this right here for the rest of his life. He falls asleep cradling the feeling in his chest. 

◆

Steve asks him in the most absurd of ways, and Bucky would tell him to fuck off just for that if he wasn’t completely in love with the guy. They’re making out before bed because that’s pretty much par for the course now - they’ve got a _routine_ , they’re adults. 

Steve suddenly pulls back and off of him to ask, “Hey, you pay your bills yet?”

Bucky gapes at him in shock. “Are you seriously thinking about bills right now?” he all but yelps. “Steven, I’ve got my hand on your dick.”

“Oh god,” Steve withdraws even father. “Do not call me Steven when you’re touching my dick. My Ma called me that.” Bucky grimaces in sympathy, because if anyone called him James in bed he’d nope the fuck outta there, but he’s only a little sorry because whatever comes out of Steve’s mouth next better be _I’m thinking about bills to keep myself from coming_.

Although, that’d be a bit of a downer too. Bucky’s hand wasn’t even _inside_ his pants yet. Flattering, but discouraging nonetheless.

“So have you?” Steve prods, settling back to his side.

“Are you serious right now?” Bucky asks in disbelief. When Steve just gives him a look like _he’s_ the one that’s crazy, Bucky almost loses it. “Yes, Steve, I’m a responsible adult and I have indeed paid my bills on time. Happy now? Can we go back to fooling around or do you need to hear about my tax returns?”

Any other time and Steve would jump at the chance to love on him, but instead the guy averts his eyes a little and asks, “Are you, um, still paying your rent?” 

Bucky blinks at him because _oh_. Also because he’s realizing that Steve doesn’t know whether he is or he isn’t, since he hasn’t been back there in ages. Bucky mourns for the tiny cactus he had on the kitchen windowsill. “I- Yeah, I’ve been paying it.” 

Steve looks into his eyes and then quickly back down, fiddling with the sheets underneath them. “Okay. Um, are you- are you gonna keep paying it?” 

Bucky can’t help but start smiling in amusement, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from outright laughing because his guy is _so ridiculous_. “Is there something you wanna ask me?” He knows his eyes are twinkling with mirth at this point, because Steve rolls his eyes and then lets himself fall onto Bucky, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. 

“Dunno, is there?” he mulishly says into his skin, voice muffled, and lightly bites at his shoulder in retaliation when Bucky starts laughing. 

“Steve, come on, come outta there,” Bucky cajoles, pulling on his hair delicately to lift him up, still snickering without remorse. Steve comes up with a pout painted on, and Bucky kisses it away as he always does. “You want me to stop paying my rent, is that it?” 

“I mean, you don’t gotta, but you’re staying here all the time anyway and it just seems stupid that you’re also paying rent somewhere else. I get it if you want your own space, though, really, I’m fine with it, just keep-“ Bucky covers Steve’s mouth and then kisses the back of his own hand, because he’s perfected the art of cutting Steve off mid ramble. 

“Do you want me to move in here, Steve?” he insists on asking. Steve’s answer is a garbled, “Yes, please,” from behind Bucky’s hand. He finally pulls it away and then rises up to indulge in a short heartfelt kiss. “I’d love to live here with you,” he tells him, wholeheartedly meaning it. 

“Yeah?” Steve looks like all his plans are coming together, and if that masterplan is to keep Bucky forever then he’s all for it. 

“Yes, you idiot.” He yanks Steve down, so that their bodies are pressed up against each other, all soft pajamas and warmth. “I’d ask for a key but I’ve already got one.”

Steve wiggles so that they fit together more comfortably, propping himself up with one arm and caressing Bucky’s collarbone with the other, fingers drawing indistinguishable shapes on the sensitive skin. “We should move your stuff over here soon. I can hire a moving truck.”

“Steve,” Bucky considers him fondly. “Literally all of my worldly possessions are here.” He wrinkles his nose a little. “Except for a really cheap mattress and a couch I found on the side of the street, but I really don’t think those go with the decor.”

Steve looks extremely pleased with himself. “Oh.” 

Bucky pulls him into a feverish kiss just to wipe that smug look off his face. 

◆

The first time Steve’s called out as an Avenger to lend assistance a few states over, is on a dreary day in February. It’s literally the middle of Valentine’s Day, which Bucky had specifically bought special lingerie for, which is _some bullshit_. 

They’re lucky Steve wasn’t _inside him_ when the alarm went off in the closet. What does happen is Steve leaping off the couch where they’re cuddling, watching a movie and eating chocolate because okay, yes, sometimes they’re boring and a little cheesy but whatever.

Steve turns off the little clicker alarm thing, rushes off into the garage and takes out the bike where he’s already got his shield and the dark blue kevlar suit that he wears when he’s Captain Rogers packed in the inside compartment, and flips on the siren that tells everyone to get the fuck out of his way. 

He spares two seconds to turn to Bucky who’s followed him out and standing to the side, grabbing him and reminding him, “I’ll be fine, I’ll be back in less than 72 hours. I love you.” He kisses him quickly and then dashes off with a roar of his engine, before Bucky can even tell him he loves him too.

Bucky handles it well, he thinks. Steve’s prepared him for this, told him that he shouldn’t drive himself crazy when it happens, to keep calm, and that he’s always only on the field for less than a day - he should only be gone long enough for the additional medical and travel time needed. 

He emphasized that he’s only in as much danger as the cop or the group of special forces that’s being deployed out with them, and as safe as they are, too. Bucky had just told him that if he was dating a cop instead, he’d still be just as worried. 

That conversation devolved into the mechanics of Steve working as a cop being who he is. And also a little role play. Ugh, if Steve’s alarm hadn’t gone off they could be role playing right now. 

He spends the first day cleaning the house, trying to distract himself from how silent the place is by putting on music and painstakingly going through every room, cleaning and tidying up. Except for the studio, where he tries to get rid of a single amorphous paint stain for 25 minutes before realizing that shit’s going nowhere, and giving up. 

Somewhere along the way he starts getting agitated and then finds himself organizing all of the stacks of books, losing his place, and then cursing himself, because Steve’s going to lose his shit and spend an inordinate amount of time redoing all of the stacks in his very particular system that Bucky can’t for the life of him figure out. At least that means he’ll be here to freak out and wring his hands in the first place, so the thought oddly calms him. 

On the whole, he does pretty well. He spends some time with Sam, Dani, and Rita, finding solace in being around people who care about Steve and are surely worried about him as well. Clara’s there too but her method of relaxation seems to be drowning herself in research so they don’t hear a peep from her. 

He gets through the whole ordeal in one piece, except for a couple hours on the first night when he freaked out and started crying about what would happen if Steve died and he was left all alone. Then there was a whole rabbit hole of what would happen to the Roshars, would Rita be okay, no one’s going to cook Bucky weird shit ever again, so many of the Roshars would be crushed- and then he panic called Sam and asked what would happen if Steve dies. 

He’s sure sometime in the future that’s the phone call they’ll bring up if god forbid Steve gets murdered, and Bucky gets fingered as the young irresistible interloper who seduced the big bad mob boss just to kill him and take all his money. 

Huh, now _there’s_ a role play idea. 

Steve makes it home in less than 48 hours, with only minor injuries to show for his time away, but drooping with a kind of exhaustion that Bucky can’t even fathom. He draws him a bath, where Steve almost passes out, but forces himself to doze just so Bucky won’t have to carry him back to bed because, well, he wouldn’t be able to. 

Bucky washes him clean, goes through all his nook and crannies because he loves Steve and all he wants is for him to rest, then guides him to bed. Before he blacks out, Bucky feeds him two whole plates of pasta, because it looks like he needs it, and then finally lets him sleep. 

If there was any moment for Bucky to get out while he still could, you would think it’s right now. Steve’s life is so full of complications, a web of deceit and sacrifice, all because he wants to help people - whether it be citizens running from danger, or anyone in Brooklyn that’s looking to survive no matter what it takes. 

It’s not, though, because Bucky’s fallen in love with Steve so many fucking times over the last however long - every part of him, known and unknown to the public, the people in his life, and even himself. He keeps choosing Steve, even though it doesn’t feel like a choice at all, but it is. One that he keeps making with every facet that he discovers of this wondrous man.

Even if it _is_ that defining moment, Bucky would choose him here, right now, watching over him as he sleeps, listening to him breathe, and falling in love all over again.

◆

Following Steve’s recent deployment and return, a banquet is held, in honor of all the units and divisions lending a hand, from local forces to more global-oriented groups like the Avengers. It’s a large formal gathering at a beautiful hall, with state officials, agency heads, and police chiefs of the affected areas and those surrounding it, among other bureaucrats and politicians.

Steve and Bucky don their formal wear, get Leo to drive them in the same car they used for the benefit, and reconcile themselves to lots of handshakes for the night. With it being called a banquet, Bucky hopes they’ll at least have large portions of food. 

After seemingly endless speeches to start off the event, they finally get served, reportedly by courtesy of a world-renown chef. It _is_ a larger portion than they got last time, with the promise of all five courses. He can hear Steve sigh in relief, and Clint must too, seated nearby, because he laughs and relates, “I know, right? I’ve got like six protein bars strapped to my legs right now just in case the food was gonna suck.”

Bucky laughs and wonders why he didn’t think of that, and the thought must be written plain across his face because Clint pointedly looks his legs up and down. Bucky nods, and concedes his point. “You’re right, I would never sacrifice the lines of my suit. Wouldn’t want to deprive the world of that.” He can hear Steve hum, as if in agreement, or maybe he’s just really enjoying his entrée - you never know with him.

Clint scoffs, taking offense. “Excuse you, my thighs are so much better looking than yours, you just can’t see it through all the snacks.” He frowns down at his lap like he’s trying to will the taped down food away. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens, so he tries for the more reasonable argument of, “Which one of us professionally works out to keep these thighs in shape to save the world?” 

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration but as they’re currently at a banquet held for something vaguely along those lines, he lets it go. Instead, he posits, “Well, my workout is a _little_ different, but _much_ more satisfying, and I assure you just as vigorous. If you think _that’s_ not helping save the world then I don’t think you want a Steve on your team that isn’t getting some on the regular.” 

Steve snorts at the proclamation, but across the table Tony full on splutters his sparkling water, getting the entire front of his suit drenched. Bucky’s so thankful for the unfortunate timing. Pepper looks gobsmacked at the mess, but mercifully not angry, so Bucky lets all the amusement he’s feeling leak out of him. Even Natasha’s lips are quirked upwards.

Steve and Natasha aren’t frosty with each other, but it’s close. He wonders when Natasha’s going to give him that apology. Maybe it’s because they haven’t found time alone, just the two of them, or maybe Natasha’s waiting for Steve to come to her and acknowledge that she reached out to him and _offered_ the apology. If it’s the latter, she’s going to be waiting a long time - Steve’s as stubborn as a mule. 

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Tony gasps out in between patting himself with a couple napkins, which is doing nothing to help. 

Clint offers Bucky a handshake, manic grin on his face. “Okay, you won that round, completely because of what you did to Tony.” Bucky shakes his hand and says, “I’ll take it.”

The food at the banquet may be better, but the way it works is worse. People keep coming over to thank the Avengers and shake their hands, making small talk as they stay for a minute or two, from officials from all across the country to other commanding officers who were providing assistance alongside them. 

Mostly, things go as smoothly as they can when you’ve got one or two people coming to talk to all five Avengers at once. Mostly, that is. 

It happens about three fourths of the way through. Talk at the table has cycled through the holidays, gifts, family traditions, and New Year’s adventures. They haven’t really seen each other since December, so it’s the regular catch up. 

The man that comes over looks self-assured, suit pressed and shoes polished. If he looks a little nervous it’s because he’s a new mayor, never been to one these things before. He introduces himself as the mayor of Chicago, and spends a few moments talking to each of them, until he finally gets to Steve. 

Steve’s got that bland look he puts on when he wants to singularly display the Captain Rogers mask in public, and something’s churning in Bucky’s stomach, which he’s pretty confident isn’t the Michelin star meal he just scarfed down. 

“You know,” the mayor starts. “I’ve got this hypothetical my staff and I have been constructing for my city. You’re one of the greatest tactical minds, do you mind taking a quick look?” He lifts the manila folder he had tucked under his arm. 

Steve gives him a scarily amiable smile, all teeth, and takes the folder, opening it at an angle that won’t let anyone else have a view. That is, except for Bucky, who’s right by his side. It’s papers for Wanda and Pietro, as put together by the Chicago mob. It takes everything in Bucky not to start sweating. He’s only mildly impressed that they’ve got someone like the damn mayor.

“Ah,” Steve says like he’s reading over the plans or whatever the fuck kind of document they’re pretending it is. “Well, this _would_ be quite a concerning disaster. Well, if these two over here are ever harmed there’ll be a lot of casualties. I don’t see any way around it.” He’s pointing to two random spots on the paper as if they’re potential targets on a map, which they may as well be. 

“Looks like they’re pretty well protected, though. It would be inadvisable for anyone to try anything, the defense certainly seems like it could withstand a lot, and endlessly fire back too.” Steve closes the folder and holds it out calmly, face stretched into a courteous smile but eyes dangerous as ever, though only the mayor can see that. “Any potential attackers might first go for government officials, people in office, the recognizable faces. That’s their usual MO, anyway. I hope that was helpful.” The mayor’s hand is trembling as he takes back the file, though it’s barely noticeable. 

He clears his throat and backs up a single step, though it looks like he wants to tuck tail and run. “Ah, yes, well, I’ll make sure that’s in the documents.” He smooths over his perfectly coiffed hair, like a calming technique, and then offers parting remarks to the table as one. 

They sit back down and go back to their dishes, Steve methodically eating his pieces of meat. Bucky’s holding onto his fork but can only bring himself to push his own food around. He feels Steve’s hand rest against his knee under the table and unwinds a fraction. 

“It’s a little inappropriate to bring something like that up right here, don’t you think?” Bruce asks the table in general, a disgruntled look on his face. Everyone offers their own takes on it and Steve silently shrugs, as expected of him. 

Steve waits for two more visitors before turning to Bucky and as if talking to him about his greens, very discreetly says, “Safe house.” Bucky gives it another five minutes before excusing himself from the table, and finding a suitable place to call Sam and tell him to get the Maximoffs to a safe house pronto. His voice only shakes once.

◆

Sam has the Maximoffs stay hidden for a week, and when they resurface and are back at the house, Steve orders them to lay low and not do any jobs for the Roshars for the month. Pietro looks defeated, absentmindedly rubbing Erica’s back. 

Sam tells him that there’s always food in the house for any of them to eat, and a room with running water if they need it. Wanda is appeased by the guarantee that the cut in income won’t leave them starving and on the street, but Pietro’s still upset. 

“Hey, kid, Erica’s gonna get what she needs too, okay?” Sam assures him. “Just like when you first stayed with us, we got you your formula and diapers, right? We still got some, and you don’t gotta worry about any of that.” Pietro looks relieved, but not fully at ease. 

“I’m sorry, Pietro, I really am, but we need to keep all three of you safe.” Steve sounds assertive yet sympathetic. “We ride this out for the month and then you’ll both be out on jobs in no time.” 

The Roshars are tense as they wait for a possible attack, or even the slightest bit of provocation. Steve has Clara monitor everything she can get her hands on to get eyes on even more places than they usually do, and Dani does a deep dive on the mayor just in case. 

Steve wanted to go ahead, guns blazing, for even threatening the Maximoffs, not to mention approaching him in person as Captain Rogers. Rita shut that down immediately, knowing that once they start taking bodies down, especially starting with the mayor like Steve wanted to, things were going to get ugly fast. They’re already on the precipice of an active conflict - the Roshars don’t need to be the first to spill blood. 

Steve was livid, but Rita made it clear that if he even breathes on the mayor, she was going to wring his neck. He surrendered in respect to her position, but also because he knows she’s right. 

They keep waiting, twiddling their thumbs, trying to run everything else as smoothly as they usually would. They’re three weeks in and there’s zilch coming from the Chicago mob. Usually, that means they’re biding their time, or going for the element of surprise, or even just using the time to plan. But that’s not how these guys work. 

They like to announce their prey and the hunt, let them know they’re coming. There’s nothing subtle about their operations. They’re the kind to send a mayor to the most senior of the Roshars, smack dab in the middle of the largest gathering of government officials in a ten mile radius.

By all measures, the Maximoffs are in the clear. Bucky asks Steve how they can be sure, what if maybe they’re trying to get at them regardless of bravado? Steve explains, “This is as much of a message as any. They’re basically waving around a white flag for a truce.” He looks much lighter than he has in days. “They know I wasn’t bluffing. If they took the first shot they were going to start losing guys fast. They already had a peek of what that’s like when they accidentally stole our shipment. It’s too big of a risk for a couple low level deserters.”

Bucky stares at him as he tries to work that out. “Is there someone there that knows you? From before you shipped out?” He doesn’t know the details of Steve’s beef with the Chicago mob, just the impressions of it. 

Steve shrugs noncommittally, though it’s more like it doesn’t quite matter one way or the other. “Maybe,” is what he settles with. 

Bucky at last breathes out all the tension he’s been holding in his body, satisfied with the safety of their friends. Sam spreads the word and gets the Maximoffs back on jobs, and it feels like a black cloud has just lifted off of the entire neighborhood. 

Bucky hopes nothing like that happens again anytime soon, but he knows it’s inevitable. What’s putting his mind at ease, however, is knowing Steve’s always going to fire back when needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to fuck up the mayor, almost as much as Steve did, but Rita’s too smart for that.
> 
> If you want to tell me what you’re thinking, you should.   
> Last chapter’s next. You’ll get it soon enough.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feelings and more feelings, with a side of other things. for the last time!
> 
> Beta reader Meraki_Moli is the one to thank for polishing up this chapter, and the rest of them as well. You would be reading something much less put together without her magic.

Steve’s been downright cheerful in light of recent events, namely the all but spelled out truce with the Chicago mob ever since Daniels’ shipment first went missing. Bucky’s even found him singing along to whatever song is playing, just like he always does when he’s in a good mood, sometimes even just to what’s apparently playing in his head. Those are a bizarre mixture of the jazz music he grew up with and 70s and 80s rock. Bucky would not enjoy listening to Steve’s internal radio. 

This week, however, he’s been tunelessly humming along to nonexistent songs because Bucky’s birthday is coming up. On the night before he turns 25, Steve wrenches three orgasms out of him, and then kisses him sweetly on the top of his head like he didn’t just turn Bucky into a pile of mush. 

Bucky’s floating on another plane of existence, slowly putting himself back together piece by piece, and resurfacing to the sound of Steve whispering sweet nothings into his skin, worshiping his body with soft caresses and gentle kisses. When his brain starts working again, he can make out Steve’s mutterings of “this dimple right here, and I love this freckle, and I love this scar, and you’ve got the prettiest cock in all of New York, I swear to god, honey, it’s the prettiest fuckin' thing.”

Bucky’s not getting hard anytime soon, but the pecks he gets to Steve’s favorite parts of his body are bringing him down gently into a serene peace and quiet, even the little peck he gets to the underside of his dick. None of it riles him up, and it doesn’t seem like Steve’s trying to get off either, content to kiss up on Bucky just because that’s his idea of a good time.

He floats in and out, hearing snippets of “thighs that are made for me to fuck, these muscles goddamn,” and “so pink and tight, ain’t never seen a hole like that, so beautiful, love it so much,” and “spasms right here every time you laugh, spend everyday tryna make you happy just so I can see the proof right there.”

Eventually, Steve runs out of body parts, or words, or more likely he’s getting impatient for his snuggles, because Bucky ends up falling asleep cocooned in his arms. His ear’s pressed to Steve’s chest in a direct channel to his heartbeat, but the only thing in his head is the echoes of loving praises.

Bucky doesn’t get woken up by breakfast foods. He gets woken up by the most indulgent chocolate cake he’s ever had, a smooth velvety yet crumbly sponge, so lightweight he feels like he can eat the whole thing in one sitting. Usually he’d take issue with dessert for breakfast but for this cake, he’d make an exception.

It’s covered in chocolate frosting, a light buttery heavenly fluff, perfectly topped with whipped cream that’s got a hint of tartness. The whole thing’s patently homemade, which makes it all the more beautiful. Steve climbs onto his lap to give him pieces of cake, and it’s very wholesome and endearing, until he doesn’t know what Steve does, but he’s got a mouthful of frosting and whipped cream, and suddenly licking into his mouth. 

The feel of Steve’s tongue against his own, and the combination of the chocolatey sweetness and fresh tangy flavor is lighting a fire inside, making him let out a long involuntary moan. Steve pulls back and roguishly grins down at him, like he knew Bucky would get a confusing confectionary based boner. “Happy birthday, Buck.”

Steve licks more frosting and whipped cream from his lips, then starts moving down. He smears dollops of it all over his body, at seemingly random points which Bucky later realizes are some of the same places Steve had been admiring just last night. He leisurely licks them all up with swirls of his tongue and occasional bites until he’s clean and begging to come. 

Bucky’s a little out of it but Steve must’ve grabbed a glass of water or something because the next thing he knows, a wet heat is enveloping him, and it sure doesn’t feel like Steve’s mouth’s got a layer of processed sugar. The surprise earns him a loud cry of pleasure, and then continuous moans that might be Steve’s name, but even Bucky can’t tell you for sure. He comes down Steve’s throat, who swallows and licks after it like he’s still tasting tart chocolatey goodness.

Bucky’s never been so wiped after coming once, but he’s gone limp and sated, sprawled on the bed. Steve’s placing chaste, closed mouthed kisses all over his face, and Bucky hums in placid tranquility. “Come on, honey, we gotta get you cleaned up.” He lets himself be picked up and carried over to the bath - though that’s more of a regular occurrence than a special birthday treat - and Steve puts Bucky back together with tender scrubs and gradual touches. 

If this morning is any indication, he’s going to have a great fucking day.

Bucky starts off with a long breakfast with Becca, and treats himself to a mimosa. They’re going shopping after, so he doesn’t want to get tipsy - well, he wouldn’t want to get day drunk on his birthday anyway - but a single flute won’t hurt. 

Becca’s looking at him weirdly, and he sticks his tongue out at her like they’re seven again. “You’re fucking glowing, Bucky.” She doesn’t compliment him for nothing, so he takes her at her word. 

Bucky flashes a smile, and ruffles his hair a little just to get some of his energy out. He’s been growing out his hair, for no real reason, and he wonders if he should let it be or get a haircut. “Hmm, I had a very special wake up call.”

Becca instantly lifts up her hands in a placating gesture. “Say no more, ugh, I wish I hadn’t asked.” She narrows her eyes at nothing in particular, and wonders out loud, “You know, I would think I’d be jealous of your sexy adorable hunk of a man, especially because he’s Steve Rogers but now it’s just weird. Like, he’s still really hot, but kind of icky to think of that way.”

“Is this an older brother thing? You don’t find the hottest guy in New York attractive anymore? Is my older brother influence that powerful?” Bucky pulls a face to tease Becca. “Did I get my Bucky cooties all over Steve?” he giggles.

Becca rolls her eyes because her brother may be 25 now but he’s still a child. “A little bit, maybe. I think it’s an older brother in law thing, though.” The term stumps Bucky, and he must look like that blinking man meme because Becca’s giving him a half-pitying, half-chastising look. “I mean, you guys are serious, right? It sure seems like he’s sticking around.”

Bucky opens his mouth and all that comes out is, “Uh.”

“I mean, I’m not saying marry the guy- well not right now, anyway,” Becca waves a hand as if to physically dispel the thought. “But you’re obviously both in it for the long run, the longest run even, it’s just an apt term, for fuck’s sake Bucky, don’t look like that. What, are you gonna break up with him or something?”

“No!” That finally pulls Bucky out of his stupor. “I mean we- yeah, we’re- yeah.” Becca lets out a knowing _mmhm_. Bucky’s made peace with the fact that Steve is it for him, and he’s made grand declarations all about his devotion to not just the man but also the relationship - but only in his head. It’s another thing to hear it out loud from someone else’s perspective, especially someone who’s as important and knows him as well as Becca. 

“Are you done with your little crisis?” Becca snaps him out of it again. 

Bucky scowls and says, “If I’d known about this influence I have, I would have dated all those no good douchebag jerks you went out with in high school, just to keep you away from them.”

Becca shoots him a withering glare. “You slept with at least two of them!”

Whoops, maybe he shouldn’t have brought that up. “Not while you were going out with them! And whatever, that is neither here nor there.” 

“It’s right fucking here is where it is!” Becca screeches, but this is an argument they’ve had countless times, mostly for show, so he’s not worried. Before things can devolve further, they get a video call from Alice as promised, so they set aside stupid teenage misgivings - because they were a pair of hot messes back then - and dedicate time to their baby sister. 

Bucky can bug Becca and get under her skin another time.

He gets home with a few choice finds, and to Steve and the guys greeting him from the living room. “Birthday baby!” Sam’s voice booms. Bucky scrunches up his nose because what the fuck?

“What the fuck?” he verbalizes, as he puts away the bags and comes in for hugs and kisses from Clara and Dani. 

Sam spreads his arms out to him like he didn’t just call him _birthday baby_. This fucking guy. “Because you’re the baby of the group! And it’s your birthday!” Bucky shakes his head because that made absolutely no sense, but accepts the offered embrace because he loves Sam anyway. 

They all head over to the house, where Bucky gets numerous birthday wishes, including one accompanied by a suffocating squeeze from Pete, and a sweet meaningful kiss on top of his head from Rita. “I’ve cooked you a special birthday lunch!” Dani tells him as soon as they get to the kitchen. It’s a little late in the afternoon but he hasn’t eaten, so he happily accepts the rather giant plate Dani pulls out of the oven where he’s been keeping it warm. 

It’s as impeccable tasting as Dani’s cooking always is, and he rewards his friend with a smack on the cheek. They spend the rest of the afternoon at the house, until they have to go home to get ready for dinner. 

The reservation isn’t until half past eight, so Bucky takes his time getting ready, putting on a few items that he got earlier, and dodging Steve’s grabby hands every five minutes. They’re meeting Becca, Jane, Darcy, Sam, and Riley at the restaurant, so he can’t get distracted by Steve and his evil plan to mess him up before they even get out the door. 

“Honey, c’mere, I wanna give you your present.” Steve’s attaching himself to Bucky’s back, kissing the back of his neck and inhaling the fresh clean scent of his boyfriend straight out of the shower. He’s already dressed in a casual but arresting suit, but his hair’s still damp and curling at the ends where it dries. Steve tugs lightly at them like a kid begging for attention. 

Bucky sighs, faking exasperation, but solemnly tells him, “If you’re about to say that it’s your dick I’m never letting you sweet talk me again.” Steve laughs, burying his face into the soft material lining Bucky’s shoulder and loses it for a minute, because, as he gasps out between giggles, that was _not_ what he was going for and he actually was serious about the gift. 

Bucky’s only a little disappointed. 

“It’s out in the living room, come on, it’s out here,” Steve’s pulling on him and herding him to where he’s displayed the presents, as if Bucky doesn’t _live here_ and know exactly where the living room is. 

“For fuck’s sake, Steve, I’m going, take it down a notch. I’m gonna trip and break my neck or someth-“ He stops short at the large canvas propped up on the wall. Even after all this time with Steve, he still knows jack shit about art, but he can still appreciate it. It’s discernibly Steve’s work, the style and brushstrokes similar to the ones up in the bedroom. 

It’s a medley of shades of cream and tan, and a few strokes of black and grey with hints of blue. He doesn’t need Steve to tell him that it’s supposed to be Bucky, though not his face or his person, just an abstract muddle of his essence on a canvas, and it does the job. Or at least, it conveys how he feels to Steve, all warm and soft, captivating in an understated yet imposing way that pulls you in, and the piece is gorgeous and just a little bit romantic.

Even the texture, waves of scrapes and piled on paint, seem to recount Steve’s own somewhat tumultuous emotions and an unrestrained pouring of love. Bucky can’t believe a painting’s going to make him tear up. He covers his eyes a little but finds himself peeking through his fingers. “Is this for me?” he squeaks unnecessarily, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind as he wraps him up and kisses his hair. 

“Yeah, honey, we can put it up somewhere if you want.” Steve catches a tear with his fingertip and is a little alarmed but he just kisses him where the corner of his eye is damp. “Maybe in the bedroom, or wherever, in storage if you want to keep it to yourself.”

“The bedroom sounds nice,” Bucky agrees and sniffles. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” He buries his face in Steve’s chest, laughing at himself a little. 

“Well, there’s a little more I wanted to give you,” Steve pulls back, granting him a kiss that turns deeper than he meant it to. Eventually he extricates himself from Bucky’s clinging show of gratitude, and shows him the little array of presents. 

There’s a few of his favorite bottles of wine, gourmet chocolates, even some of his favorite Steve-made treats that Bucky still doesn’t know what to call but always steals when Steve bakes them, and a couple boxes wrapped in bows. One of them reveals lush cashmere sweaters, and the other is a dizzying flurry of bath products including his entire hair care routine, which makes Bucky laugh because it’s perfect. 

“Thank you, Steve, I love them. All of them because you got me like a hundred things, you freak.” He goes on his tiptoes to capture Steve’s lips, biting into the ever-present furrow and stroking his tongue, earning a pleased moan from the man. 

Steve breaks away before he’s ready, and Bucky tries to chase his mouth but fails. “There’s one more thing.” He grabs a smaller box that Bucky had missed in the collection of gifts, and hands it over. Bucky unveils a stunning watch, and he grazes his fingers across the butter-soft leather as he pulls it out. Steve takes the box away to let him explore the timepiece, which is when he sees that there’s a print on the face of it that’s barely visible, but there if you look for it, and-

Bucky kind of can’t believe his eyes. It’s as he’s turning the watch side to side to see the pattern gleam and take shape before his eyes when he catches the same thing engraved on the back, much easier to make out and striking in its own way. It’s the crest on Steve’s Roshar family ring. Bucky gets a little lightheaded. “Steve, what-“

That’s when he discovers that the back opens to a hidden compartment, where there’s another engraving, an inscription that reads _All my love, Steve_. The sight of it soothes and sparks him up at once. 

“I had it made for you,” Steve explains redundantly, but if Bucky ever needs anything spelled out it’d be now. “You mean a lot to me, Buck, and this right here is my home and my family, everything I’ve worked for and love. This is one of the few things I have and carry on from my Ma, and represents everything I am. I wanted you to have it, and maybe it’ll mean to you a fraction of what it does to me.”

The Roshar family crest isn’t a widely known emblem, or even a commonly displayed symbol within the Roshars. In fact, the only place it’s recognizable is on Steve’s ring, and on a necklace Rita keeps hidden under her clothes - though the hint of the silver chain is enough of a proclamation of what she has around her neck. The necklace is a treasured heirloom Steve himself had given Rita’s mom, Rachel, before he left for Europe. 

Everyone knows Steve’s the only one who’s adorned with it, and Rita. It’s not quite an emblem for the Roshars, people not in the know definitely don’t associate it with anything, but it’s as close as they have. It’s much more than that for Steve, though. As much as he loves the people and organization he’s cultivated, this is more about who he is as a person, and his history. “You don’t have to wear it-“

“Steve,” Bucky goes to interject because he doesn’t need Steve to go off and backtrack like he often does, but Steve doesn’t let him.

“No, listen. You don’t have to wear it because it might mean something different to you. But I want you to have it, for whatever you might need.” It’s a piece of Steve he’s giving away and handing over to Bucky, he wraps his mind around. This is _so much_ and incredibly overwhelming, but he doesn’t find himself intimidated or burdened like he would think. It feels like something settling into place that’s always meant to be there.

Bucky surges up for a devoted passionate kiss, communicating all his understanding and compassion without uttering a single word. When he ends the kiss, still grasping onto Steve and looking straight into those adoring eyes, he fervently says, “Thank you.” 

Steve seems to understand him just fine, and when Bucky offers up the watch to get him to put it on, he does it with a smile so tender Bucky has to kiss it off his face. “I love you,” he finds he has to reiterate, and Steve returns the sentiment as he always does, kissing him again on his cheeks and forehead and eyes and chin, the tip of his nose and even his ears. 

They’re a little late to their reservation, but the restaurant is wise enough to let the Rogers party off without even a warning, plying them with the best food and drinks they have to offer instead.

◆

△

Living with Bucky is the best thing Steve’s had in a long time. _Bucky_ is the best thing Steve’s had in a long time, but that’s another point entirely. 

Steve loves starting and ending the day with him, even after spending hours together working. On the days when they’re not attached at the hip, Steve revels in knowing that he’s coming home to someone, and not only that, but to _Bucky_. The thought never stops amazing him. 

It’s a little ridiculous because Bucky had basically been living with him way before they made the move official, but Steve likes that his home is now Bucky’s too. He looks around, though, and everything he sees is his and what he put together, before he had someone to share the space with. 

Bucky’s certainly left his mark everywhere - all his things that Steve never realized migrated over before he moved in, the touches of his taste in the decor, pictures from both their lives incorporated through the assortment of things up on the walls. Even the way the books are all out of order is because Bucky just _could not understand his goddamn system_. Steve sighs, lamenting the reorganizing he’s going to have to do soon. 

He wants him to have his own space, though. Steve has his studio, but Bucky doesn’t have somewhere he can be undisturbed if he wants to. He brings it up while they have dinner that night on the couch. It’s one of the rare nights they’re not with Sam, Clara, and Dani, so he figures it’s the perfect time. 

“Buck, do you want to use our second floor for anything?” Steve asks between bites of lasagne. They ordered in from their favorite Italian place, a couple streets away. On the coffee table is a couple pies big enough for even Steve to get full, a lasagne, and garlic bread.

Bucky bites into his slice of Margherita, and tears his attention away from the show they’re watching to frown over at him. “What?”

“I was just thinking, you don’t have your own space here. I’ve got the studio when I’m keeping to myself and doing whatever but you don’t got anything like that. Maybe we can redo the second floor for you.” He puts down the lasagne and switches over to the pie because Bucky makes it look damn good. 

Bucky takes a long minute to get his food down before slyly asking, “Do you want to move me upstairs, Steve? You had enough of me now?”

Steve rolls his eyes, knowing his boyfriend would do this. “Buck,” he groans.

“We gonna sleep in separate bedrooms? Moving me up bit by bit until you’ve got me in the attic?” Bucky starts laughing when Steve scowls and lets out an incensed grumble, and then comes closer to kiss his frown. Steve loves when he does that. No matter what’s going on it puts a smile on his face, effectively dislodging whatever look he’s been pulling. 

“Are you done entertaining yourself?” Steve lets himself wrap an arm around Bucky so he stays glued to his side, and unable to move back to the other side of the couch. 

Bucky kisses his bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it a little. “Aw, come on, you love me.” Steve may possibly give in and turn the nibble into an actual kiss for a few seconds, but he’s weak, who can blame him?

“Hmm.” Steve settles back and eats more of his food. “Unfortunately.” Bucky just shines brighter with the insult. “So what do you think?” He won’t mind if Bucky doesn’t want to do anything, but he thinks it’s a good idea. 

“I don’t know, honestly.” Bucky looks up at the ceiling, like he can see through to the second floor. “Not sure what I’d use it for.”

Steve thinks on that, and comes up with a few suggestions. “What about your own office? I know we work in my office downstairs sometimes but you should have your own if you want one.” Bucky lights up, liking the idea. “Maybe we should turn one of the rooms into another guest bedroom, for when both of your sisters visit.” 

Bucky turns a soft look onto him, the kind that always melts Steve at his core. “That’d be great, Steve, thank you.” 

“It’s your home, too, Buck, we can do whatever you want to the place.” It still feels kind of like Steve’s place, even after having Bucky inhabit every crevice of it for so long, but he hopes this will make it more _theirs_. 

Bucky pecks his mouth in a silent thank you and finishes his slice before going for another one. “What about a home gym?” Steve’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “I know we already have one to go to, but we don’t have to use it all the time. I can do my pilates there instead of the guest bedroom!” he realizes his brilliant idea.

Steve smiles because he’s glad Bucky’s getting excited. It’s true, they go to the gym Steve’s always gone to, one run by one of the Roshars. Having one at home would be convenient, though, if he wants to let off some steam in the middle of the night and doesn’t feel like making the trek. It’s also a much better method of getting rid of restless energy than going out back or circling the neighborhood to chain smoke half a pack of cigarettes. 

“Sounds great, honey.” Steve kisses the top of his head, and Bucky scrunches up his nose a tiny bit because of the grease that’s undoubtedly gotten into his hair. “Sorry,” he automatically whispers and pats at the area with his clean hand like it’ll take back the action, but it makes Bucky snuggle further into him so it’s good enough.

The next month is spent redoing the second floor. Everything upstairs that was haphazardly put away over the past few years is moved to one room for permanent storage, and they clean out the rest. Picking out colors to repaint the walls takes longer than Bucky would like, so Steve ends up deliberating over the choices himself and running them by Bucky before picking up what they need. 

After an afternoon of painting, with only a small amount of messing around, they leave the house to let the place air out and go furniture shopping. Bucky tells him, “I really don’t give a shit about the design of fucking furniture, Steve.” But Steve definitely gives lots of shits so he leads them on their search, and Bucky tests mattresses, chairs, couches, gym equipment, and rugs for comfort. 

Steve insists Bucky makes the office really his own, though, so he gets to follow him around with helpful insights when they look for a desk. The other furnishings in that same room may have been picked out by Steve, but a desk needs to fit Bucky specifically.

By the third week in, most of the rooms are furnished, and it’s all coming together. Bucky convinces him to christen the new mattress and Steve succumbs because he’d do anything Bucky asks. If anyone figures out that configuration, it’ll be big trouble. 

Who is he kidding? Everyone for sure has that one figured out.

Bucky spends the next week sprucing up all the new rooms, adding his own touches, and setting up his office to work in. Steve catches him moving things around in there and then smiling fondly at the sight, before abruptly changing his mind and moving them again. Well, at least he’s having fun. 

At the end of it all, they’re utilizing the first and second floor of the house to their full extent, and Steve feels like the place has been refreshed. He’s so glad they decided to do this, especially when Bucky drags him to his office, and they break in yet another room. The image of Bucky bent over the desk will never leave his mind. 

▽

◆

During Bucky’s first week working for Steve, he’d told him to block off one date in May in his schedule - no meetings, no calls, no nothing, barring a gun to his head. At the time, he’d been more focused on the gun to his head thing because with this job, that’s pretty fucking literal. He hadn’t needed to come in either, since Steve wouldn’t be working.

He’d thought it was just a regular day off, but now he knows Steve doesn’t usually enforce that kind of blackout when he just wants some time to himself to eat junk and be a couch potato. The date’s coming up, and he only realizes when Steve asks him to make sure that it’s a blackout this year too. 

Bucky’s too busy being shaken by the fact that he’s been working for Steve for _a year_ , to get around to asking why he has a sacred day sectioned off. Maybe it _is_ just the one time a year Steve wants zero responsibilities and to relax. 

Bucky gets his answer mere hours before the day actually dawns on them, as they’re getting ready for bed. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about tomorrow,” Steve whispers into the small space between them, where they’re curled into each other. 

“I-“ Bucky doesn’t really have a good answer to that. He shrugs, and decides to form a somewhat coherent thought. “I’ve been working for you for a year.” He looks into Steve’s eyes, and sees the sparkle of satisfaction at the mention of Bucky’s time with him, a kind of love that he sometimes still doesn’t expect and is astonished to find. “I’ve just been thinking about that.” 

“Yeah?” Steve brushes away a strand of his hair, rubbing the pad of his thumb across his cheekbone in the process. “And what are you thinking?”

Not much, if he’s being honest, but he gives it a thought and says what’s on his mind. “That I’m lucky. And so grateful to have found you - and everyone else. I don’t know what my life would be right now without all this.” He tries to tough it out and keeps meeting Steve’s stormy blues. “It’s the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, honey.” Steve shifts a fraction to deliberately press his lips chastely against the top of his head. “I hope you keep feeling that way, too. And that you keep talking to me.” Bucky gives him a genuine smile. 

With everything that comes with how they started their relationship, he’s a little surprised himself at how healthy they are. Steve always wants them to communicate openly and Bucky has no issue with that. It’s the only way they can trust each other, and it’s truly made them be able to rely on one another for any and everything. “You wanna talk about tomorrow?”

Steve finally snuggles close to Bucky, pressing himself all along his side, as he always likes to do. Cuddly doesn’t even start to describe him properly. “It’s the anniversary of my Ma’s passing.”

“ _Oh, Steve_.” There’s no way Bucky could have known that, but there’s still a niggling of guilt in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t do something - not that there’s anything he could possibly do. He wraps his arms tighter around the blonde, burying his fingers into Steve’s hair. Steve just nestles his face into his neck, and breathes in and out. “What do you usually do?”

Steve mouths against his shoulder for a second before telling him, “Go see her, and then maybe dinner with Rita.” His voice is scratchy and he’s sniffling into Bucky’s t-shirt, so he sweeps a hand up and down his back. 

“Okay, are you doing that tomorrow?” Bucky feels Steve nod and clutch tighter to his body. “Do you want the day to yourself or do you want me around?” He’d understand if Steve prefers to be on his own, but Bucky would feel better himself if he could be there for when Steve needs him.

Voice strangled, he says, barely audible, “Please stay. Come with me.” 

“Alright. Of course I will.” Bucky caresses the back of Steve’s head, and spends the rest of the night doing just that, and wiping a few tears. He envelops Steve in his arms and lets him cling back until he falls asleep.

Steve takes him to the cemetery where his Ma is buried, a clean if modest gravestone that he kisses when they arrive, with an engraved inscription in Irish Gaelic. He introduces Bucky and tells her about some of their life together, and Bucky chimes in here and there. He cries a little, but Bucky just holds him through it until he starts speaking again.

They have dinner with Rita just like Steve said, and he gets to hear about the truly phenomenal woman Sarah Rogers was. Rita grew up with stories of her from her own mother, Rachel, who knew Sarah best next to her own son. Bucky gets to listen to stories about Rachel along the way, and he’s glad to see that while Steve misses his friend, he’s happy to talk about her too, and all her adventures over the years. 

It’s a hard day, but a good one nonetheless. Sam checks in once in the evening and sneakily lets him know that it usually doesn’t go this smoothly, winking at him in thanks. Bucky lets himself feel a glimmer of pride at taking care of his guy. It’s a hard day, but Steve falls asleep smiling intertwined with Bucky, so it’s a good one.

◆

Allegedly, it’s been happening for a while. That’s what Sam tells him when he hesitantly brings it up, at first a little worried about what the guy would say - and what he would think of the concern itself - but he just helped him make sense of it, and talked him through everything. Sam’s the best.

By now, he’s used to how friendly everyone is, how quickly they always get served, the airy yet respectful way people are, because he’s usually with Steve. At the very least, he’s doing things on behalf of him. Even the bodegas know the smokes he picks up are for his boyfriend. 

So he doesn’t expect to be treated the same way when he’s on his own, going about his life, dealing with things that have nothing to do with Steve Rogers. He can see people actively choosing not to get on his bad side, because okay yeah even when he’s not on the job or whatever, things can still get back to Steve. But this is not that, he can just _feel_ it. 

He can differentiate when people are nice to him because of who he knows, and when they’re _nice_ to him because he’s him. It’s a fine line, but he’s always been able to tell, and the past year has just sharpened his senses.

That’s how he discovers his standing in the Roshars. He loses his cool for a horrifying minute before purposefully picking himself up off the metaphorical floor and going to the one person he can think of - Sam. Their talk makes him feel better, and by the time Steve gets home, he’s standing on solid enough ground that he talks about it with him too.

The more complicated part, is other people noticing. People that have nothing to do with that part of his life, like his sister, and his friends. When they get seated at Becca’s favorite restaurant ahead of the literal line down the street, Becca remarks with a short and sweet, “Damn, Bucky.” He’d refuse the treatment except for the fact that _there’s a line down the street_ and he’s not that good of a person.

When he accompanies Darcy to the clinic, they get seen to in record time - for waiting on a practitioner, anyway - and Darcy gets so much information and assistance she’s almost overwhelmed. 

“Dude, this is scary, you must be fucking killing it, I’m so proud of you!” She turns to him with an ecstatic grin. It’s nice how much Darcy cares about how he’s doing in his job, even if her words are confusing - he gets her point. “Oh damn, you think they think I’m like your sexy mistress or something? Or your sexy sister? Hmm, I can’t think of anyone else you’d bring to the clinic.”

“Why do you have to be my sexy anything?!” Bucky hisses. “Also, you’re my sexy friend, that’s who I’d bring to the clinic,” then catches himself. “Oh for fuck’s sake, you’ve got me saying it.”

“It’s because that’s what I am, Bucky! You can’t deny what I was born with.” Darcy purses her lips into a pout in an exaggeration of her looks, and Bucky pushes her face away playfully. “Careful, you’re damaging the goods!” That one sends both of them into cackles and gets a nurse poking his head in to scold them - until he sees who’s inside. 

Having the Roshars all over Brooklyn definitely has its perks.

◆

When Steve gets called in for an Avengers matter, Bucky assumes it’s some kind of strategy meeting because they’re asked for an in-person appointment. In a way, it is. Bucky’s never been so relieved to have been given clearance to accompany Steve to these things as his assistant.

Steve falters half a step when they get to the work room attached to the lounge, recovering fast enough to hinder any suspicion. Bucky’s perfected a natural unaffected look, but he still fights to keep it in place. 

He’s trying to convince himself that shit isn’t going sideways, but it’s a tough sell - because standing there, in the middle of the room, is one of the Roshars’ best thieves. 

Everyone’s scattered around, some poking at the various tools and contraptions spread across the many work tables. He knows this is where they go for more strategy based meetings instead of the lounge, but he’s only seen it once when Steve was getting maintenance on his alarm-clicker-gizmo-thing. 

Pepper comes to greet them as always, hugs and cheek kisses at the ready like she doesn’t have a care in the world, so Bucky hopes they’re not knee deep in some irrevocable fuckery. No one seems to be up in arms or expressing any signs of distress - maybe everything’s fine. He’s not sure how, but surely there’s an explanation to this. 

“Steve, thank you for coming on such short notice.” Bucky’s warmed up to Pepper immeasurably, as he got to know her relationship with Steve. She’s always courteous and friendly, and it’s like those two have some kind of unspoken understanding. 

Steve makes it easier for the team to work together and not make her job harder than it is, and she’s got an inkling that Steve doesn’t spend his time _fixing up the house that he’s had for five years_ but doesn’t ask. Sure, she’s thinking more along the lines of Steve having scandalous hobbies and escapades he’d rather keep to himself and not, like, running a century old crime organization, but the details are irrelevant.

“Cap, look who we’ve got!” Tony announces, extending an arm to the man in their midsts. This is one of those times Steve’s silence and impassivity as Captain Rogers comes in handy, because he’s not expected to actually _say_ anything. 

Bruce comes over from where he was keeping Clint from dismantling an apparatus of some sort to hug them hello, and fills them in as he backs up and settles onto a seat. “Scott here was found developing a technology that might be of value to us. He operates it himself as well, and is keeping the mechanics under wraps - as he should.” Bruce throws an approving look at the man like he’s seconding his hold on the intellectual property. “So we’re thinking of recruiting him to the Avengers.”

Pepper pulls something up on her tablet then turns all their attention to Scott. “Do you want to tell us about what you’ve got?” She smiles and adds, “And about yourself, of course."

Scott looks like he’s shitting bricks. He had gone chalk-white at the sight of Steve, and, to his own bewilderment, Bucky. They’ve seen him a couple times in passing, but he’s not at a lot of gatherings for the Roshars, mostly traveling to pull his jobs. He does a lot of work in the art world, getting his hands on various pieces for them to fence. “I’m-,” he clears his throat, then shoves his fists into the pockets of his jacket. “I’m Scott Lang.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, Tony sighs and takes over. The technology is insane. Scott can shrink down to a tiny version of himself, or blow up into a giant one. Clint adamantly refuses to believe that something like that can exist, but whoops when they have Scott take his suit for a test drive. Even Natasha is gaping at the demonstration - though they only see him shrink. 

“Scott insists that his partner in this research remains anonymous so we can’t explore more possibilities, but the current capabilities are just what this team looks for,” Pepper breaks up the cheers, when Scott returns to his normal size and puts the suit away. “Why don’t we discuss this further before making any decisions?” 

They all bring up potential scenarios and the ups and downs of taking Scott on to the Avengers, even Steve. For most of it though, he stays out of the back and forth, looking stoic and contemplative. He’s staring Scott down, who’s mellowed out but still breaks into sweats whenever he meets Steve’s eyes. Bucky decides to get a handle of the situation as best he can, and texts Sam to send over some basic info.

All of their exchanges are encrypted, so he’s not worried, and hands over the phone when it comes in. He watches Steve scan over about twenty pages worth of rudimentary coverage, because the guy’s been with the Roshars for a long time. He doesn’t miss Scott’s eyes taking notice of the action, looking a little green.

They finally come to a decision, on a whole, in agreement that it’s a good move to have someone like Scott and his suit working with them. Steve finally speaks up and asks, “Do you want to be part of the Avengers?” Bucky knows there are a lot of layers to that question. 

It’s plain as day that Scott didn’t mean to get discovered and join up. He must’ve been dreading the moment Steve shows up and finds out. “I know none of this was authorized, but I’ve got a daughter-“

“Hey, man,” Clint cuts in. “You’re not in trouble for unlicensed research, or not being certified for your garage experiments or whatever, we don’t care about that. But Cap’s got a point, are _you_ in?” Clint’s got his heart in the right place, but Bucky knows Scott’s last thought is the possible legal sanctions he might get stuck with. 

Scott gulps and states, “This wasn’t meant to be anything, but-,” he brings himself to look at Steve. “I want to help.” Steve nods imposingly, like he understands, which he does. That’s all Steve wants to do, too. 

They go over details one more time before Tony animatedly declares, “Welcome to the team!” Pepper shakes Scott’s hand in a much more appropriate gesture. “Come on newbie, drinks in the lounge,” he steers the man to the next room over. 

Bucky and Steve exchange glances but spend an acceptable amount of time mingling, faking getting to know the new teammate. Steve asks him about his daughter, and he stumbles through a half-prideful, half-pleading spiel. “Her name’s Cassie, she’s only six. Bright as hell, though, Mr. Roge- Steve, Captain. Sir.” Bruce claps him on the back with a laugh but Scott’s back to looking on the verge of losing his lunch, and squeaks, “She plays the piano!”

It goes about the same for the next hour or so. When they wrap up, Steve grabs Scott on the shoulder, rather tightly going by the wince, and says, “Why don’t I give you a ride home?” 

Scott’s frozen where he’s gripping his jacket, but manages, “That’s okay, I’m fine, sir.” 

“What kind of Captain would I be, if I didn’t take care of the new recruits?” It’s a load of bullshit, because the Avengers have never taken on anyone new before, and Steve barely spends time with the people actually on the team when he doesn’t have to, but it doesn’t matter. They all but haul Scott along with them to the car, and burn rubber back to Brooklyn. 

The drive is silent, the air heavy with tension ratcheting up alongside the speedometer. Steve ends up careening into a lot behind a row of warehouses, the tires protesting when he hits the brake without warning. Bucky spares a thought to how Steve’s cars must be modified to hell and back to cope with that kind of handling.

Steve gets out of the car and wrenches the back door open, grabbing Scott who’s instinctively scampered to the corner of the seat. He heaves the moderately sized man out and slams him down onto the trunk. “I’m sorry, wait- I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were going to-“

“Shut up,” Steve growls, and Scott’s teeth clatter with how hard he snaps his mouth closed. “You use that suit for your jobs?” Scott shakes his head, sensibly staying silent. “You been using the suit at all?” Another no. “Who’s your partner?”

“I don’t- I don’t have one, I work my jobs alone, I swear!” Scotts scrambles, trying to get a hold on the sleek surface under him, but Steve’s got him pinned in such a precarious position that he’s having trouble getting his bearings. 

“Your _research_ partner,” Steve snarls, but allows Scott to perch his foot up on the edge of the trunk so that he isn’t getting strangled by the hand on his throat - mostly. 

“Oh, I-,” Scott weighs out the pros and cons of refusing to give up the name, but he’s smart. He withholds nothing. “Dr. Hank Pym. He has these crazy inventions and he caught me breaking in once. He had a Cézanne in his private collection that’s exquisi-,” Steve slams him against the car again, physically bringing him back to the subject at hand. 

“You got _caught?_ ” Now Steve really looks murderous, and Bucky prepares himself for calling up Sam with a heads up.

“No!” Scott clasps Steve’s taut grasp in an effort to maintain some control. “I mean, yes, but the guy’s batshit! He got a kick out of me bypassing all of his security and takes me to see the piece myself, then starts talking about all these weird ass science fiction contraptions. But you gotta understand, I was an electrical engineer, I got into it!” Scott seems to forget that his life pretty much hangs in the balance. “It was so fucking awesome! Ingenious! When he showed me the research for my suit I just-“ 

Steve pulls out his gun and goes to shove it in some unsavory places, and Scott is back to gasping out pleas. “I’m sorry, please, that’s the whole story! He doesn’t know anything about the Roshars, I didn’t tell him anything!” 

“Buck, get Dani to check out Hank Pym,” Steve requests calmly, eyes still fixed on Scott. Bucky pulls out his phone and does as told. He lowers his voice into a menacing command. “If we find _one_ reason to think you brought in trouble from _anyone_ , even that suit isn’t gonna do shit to save you.” He lets Scott go but tosses him back in the car at once, uncaring to the guy’s complaints. 

They drive much more sedately over to the house, where Sam, Clara, and Dani are waiting, a pale faced Scott sitting rigidly in the backseat. Bucky plays sinister sounding songs just to fuck with him. His playlists are impeccable.

At the house, Scott follows them silently until he’s presented to the guys, with a firm, “Check him out and that Pym guy,” from Steve. “Then go through his records and make sure nothing leads him back to us, or anything incriminating.”

Sam looks like he’s waiting for the bombshell, because he’s got one of his top guys pissing himself standing next to Steve. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?” 

Steve puts on a purposely fake-looking grin. “We’ve got another Avenger in the family!” The guys and a few others in the vicinity stop dead at the news. Steve leaves Bucky, and Scott, to go into details, while he heads to the back office to talk to Rita.

“Whoa, what the fuck?” Clara verbalizes Bucky’s thoughts ever since he arrived at Stark Tower. He would find it funny that they’re slowly, and accidentally, infiltrating the Avengers, if he wasn’t so emotionally worn out. Instead, he drops into a seat and starts at the beginning.

◆

Steve’s birthday is a smash, the block party just as much of a hit as last year’s, everyone they expected in attendance. The addition of the Maximoffs to the merriment just makes Steve smile ever brighter, getting quality time with Erica before Pietro takes her away. Tension between Steve and Scott simmers under the surface, but Steve’s having no problem toeing the line between approachable and intimidating as he always does.

Before Bucky knows it, he’s been living in a world where Steve Rogers worships the ground he walks on for a year. 

“What do you wanna do, honey?” Steve says into his hair as they’re tangled in front of the couch, naked and sated. The rug is going to need to get dry-cleaned, and Bucky’s got burns on his arms and knees, but it’s totally worth it. They never tell you how messy spontaneous, filthy sex can get. _That_ should be in sex ed. Well, maybe not - there’s a reason Bucky isn’t a teacher.

“Is it bad that I’m not a big anniversary kind of guy?” Bucky looks up timidly, biting into his lip. Steve’s affectionate, and sometimes a little romantic, but he also doesn’t seem the type to give him a dozen bouquets of roses and have hotel sex while he feeds him chocolate covered strawberries. 

Okay, so he did hand feed Bucky that chocolate cake on his birthday and then took him apart with his tongue. And hotel sex wouldn’t be so bad. At least they won’t have to deal with the sheets. The roses thing, though, would undoubtedly stress Steve out - he’d end up spending the night listening to him rant about useless, excessive overindulgence and how _the flowers are going to die, we have to give them away to some people before they do, Buck!_

He’s relieved when Steve chuckles and says, “Yeah, I know, the thing’s tomorrow and we’re only just making plans.” Bucky hums, kissing Steve because he’s right there, but also because he’s glad they’re on the same page. He’d shower Steve in tacky proclamations of love if that was his partner’s thing, but it isn’t, so he’s in the clear. “You wanna take a trip or something? We can charter a plane by morning,” he offers, and then breaks into giggles, “Or a boat.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and shoves Steve away, though it doesn’t move him even an inch. “Nah, I don’t wanna deal with Sam’s wrath. I might not want elaborate plans but I don’t want to spend the next day getting read the riot act by your best friend either.”

Steve gets distracted with kissing down the side of Bucky’s face, lazily nuzzling into his hair. “Your hair smells really good,” he mumbles, and Bucky shakes his head fondly, granting him a slow languid kiss. 

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind taking the boat out, just for the day.” Steve comes up for air, looking hopeful. They really don’t have any creative ideas that sound appealing. “Maybe take the guys with us, is that okay?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve gives a dazzling smile. “That sounds like fun. Dani can make something up for a picnic.” 

Bucky’s starting to get excited, and remembers, “Oh! I want your-“

“Yeah, I know, I’ll bake some of your favorites,” Steve agrees before Bucky can even ask, kissing him once and then getting up like he’s about to go and start preparing the ingredients right now, covered in lube and come. He pulls Bucky up but thankfully proceeds to carry him over to the bathroom instead of straight to the kitchen. 

When they tell the guys their plans that night, Sam shrieks in delight. “You’re getting _me_ a present for your anniversary?!” 

Steve rolls his eyes but can’t hide his grin. “Fuck off, none of this is for you. Bucky just thought it’d be fun to have us all go on the boat for the day. We’ll be making sure you have a horrendous time, in fact.” Sam ignores the lie and leaps onto both of them in joy. 

“This is gonna be the best day, you’ll see. You’re gonna wanna listen to me more and throw a boat party!” Sam raves. He’s not too far off. They have a great time, with lots of food and drinks, music, laughter, and a shit load of sunscreen for Steve. 

Clara beats them at cards fifteen times in a row and wins hundreds of dollars off each of them individually, but she lends Steve her giant floppy hat when he starts turning into a lobster, and he looks equally ridiculous and fucking amazing, so she’s forgiven. Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t know if he forgives her for making him realize he has a thing for Steve in hats.

Sam’s the one who knows how to sail, naturally, so he guides the rest of them and says to Steve, “I’m the Captain now.” He gets pushed off the deck for that one. Dani throws him a bone - and a life preserver - and lets him have the leftover food they don’t finish. 

Steve and Bucky lightly make out, take lots of pictures with their friends, and have fun celebrating that time Steve lost his cool and ravaged Bucky to both their satisfaction. Steve and Dani go head to head and ask everyone to rate the treats they brought, and Dani wins by a hair. Bucky kisses it better, though, so Steve doesn’t let it get him down. 

Bucky finds that kissing Steve is the solution to a lot of things.

◆

△

They get back to Brooklyn sometime after sundown, and head to the house after going home to change into casual but nice enough clothes for going out. They have late dinner reservations at a greek place that he’s surprising Bucky with - a new restaurant he mentioned he’s dying to try. Steve fortunately knows the chef from a mutual acquaintance a couple years back and asked for a favor. She was more than happy to book them a spot, assuring him that he’s got the best table and to make sure to ask to see her when they’re there.

A few people are around including Wanda, who’s got one year old Erica babbling in her lap. “Dadadada,” she says rhythmically in time with her tugging on Wanda’s hair, big chunks escaping its bun. She’s been calling Wanda “Da” for a while. The first time it happened at the house, it prompted a commotion of cheers, until Pietro told them it’s short for Wanda and not Dada. Then he shared that she was already calling him Pa, and then the racket started up again, everyone praising Erica and congratulating Pietro. 

They’re relieving Wanda of her auntly duties for a few minutes so she can go clean up and eat something, when Rita comes in and asks to talk to Bucky. Steve makes to follow but she shoos him away. “Oh, don’t look so nervous, we won’t get into too much trouble.”

Bucky giggles, and whispers, “I make no promises,” before kissing him and leaving to go to the back office looking completely unbothered. Steve thinks he should be more worried. He knows Bucky’s very aware of what Rita’s capable of, she _is_ the head of the Roshars. She handles all of their business, to an extent, and she isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Steve doesn’t really deal with the nitty gritty because he just oversees everything and steps in when the situation calls for it, but Rita does - when she needs to anyway. 

He supposes he’s glad that Bucky gets along with the closest thing Steve’s got to family. They’ve bonded pretty well over the past year. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what they might be up to, scheming on their own - those two can be terrifying together, now that he thinks about it.

Erica gets fussy, and even after all this time, Steve’s still at a bit of a loss when it comes to taking care of her. So he brings her over to Pete, who’s working on a textbook on the couch. “Hey, Pete.”

“Hi, Erica!” Pete decides to greet the baby instead, but turns to him after. He’s gotta get used to being second best if he’s carrying around the youngest Maximoff. “How was your day out on the boat? It’s so weird that you celebrated your anniversary with other people.” 

Steve sighs. “What do you know about anniversaries?” he teases. “I don’t see _you_ taking someone out on a romantic evening.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you doing that either,” Pete snaps back, and then mutters disapprovingly, “Group sailing,” with a shake of his head.

Steve laughs. “Touché.” Of course, he’s doing just that tonight, but he gets his point. “It was fun, though. You wanna come if we ever go again?” Pete perks up at the offer, and Steve sniggers. “Who’s eating their words now?” 

The kid pretends to focus on his work but his lips are pursed in an attempt not to laugh. Steve ruffles his hair, a swell of affection for him bubbling up inside. Maybe there’ll be something at the restaurant they can pack up and bring home, to give to Pete tomorrow. He’s way too skinny. Oh god, he’s starting to sound like his Ma. 

Steve asks about what he’s been up to, and the part time work Bruce ended up hiring him for, after the Internship ended as his apprentice of sorts. Pete gushes about the few hours he spends assisting and learning alongside _actual professionals in the field, I can’t believe I get to be there!_ He’s been keeping in touch with America, too, sometimes even hanging out at the deli because the pies there really are mouthwatering, despite America’s early misgivings. 

By the time Bucky reemerges, Steve’s handed Erica back to Wanda, and Pete’s packed up his books and eating dinner with a couple of the Roshars. “Hi, honey, everything okay?” He pulls Bucky in, bracketing him between his legs where he’s still on the couch. 

Bucky smiles down at him almost wearily, running his hands across his shoulders and up his neck, into his hair. The feeling of Bucky’s touch always settles him like nothing else can. “Everything’s fine, stop panicking, you weirdo.” His words are biting but the tone is fond, and he kisses Steve right after. 

“What’d you talk about?” he tries. Bucky pretends to mull the question over, pressing his lips together in thought. “Buck, come on,” he whines. 

Bucky laughs at him and kisses him again. “She just wanted to talk to me.” Steve raises his eyebrows because that much was clear, and he’s going to need more than that. “Well, we’ve been together for a year.” 

“I’m aware,” Steve informs him.

Bucky scowls and swats at his arm. “Don’t be a smartass.” 

“But that’s how you love me.” Steve grins, because it’s true. 

“Hmm, yeah I do.” Bucky distracts him with a few more indulgent kisses, his hands feeling up his chest and arms, but stopping short of anything too inappropriate. Steve eventually shakes off the fog that comes with being tangled up with Bucky, and gives him a reproachful look because he should be ashamed for using Steve’s weakness like that. Bucky giggles, and gives him a peck instead.

“Buck, honey, come on.” He pulls him even closer, and rests his chin on Bucky’s abdomen to look up at him pleadingly. The fabric under his skin is smooth and cool; a shirt that cuts one hell of a figure. He’s got a pair of dark yet colorful linen pants on that has Steve sitting on his hands to keep from reaching out to grab a handful, and the ever present watch he uses everyday, with the Roshar crest pressed into his skin. He looks so breathtaking Steve sometimes loses himself at the sight.

Bucky heaves a sigh, and frames his face. “We’ve been together for a year,” he starts again. “And hopefully there’ll be more years to come,” he caresses Steve’s features lovingly, and he can’t help but beam up at the remarkable man he’s lucky enough to spend his life with. He kisses the thumb that’s ghosting over his bottom lip, waiting for more. “So Rita wanted to _talk_.”

Steve cocks his head. “Like a shovel talk?” 

Bucky smiles in amusement. “Little late for that, don’t you think?” Steve gives him a chastising look because _Bucky_ was the one who inferred as much. “More like the opposite of a shovel talk.”

“Oh.” Steve thinks that over. The saying doesn’t make much sense but he gets the gist. That’s why they’re perfect for each other. “How was it?” he asks cautiously. Obviously he knows Bucky’s serious about him, but this is a manifestation of that commitment. 

Bucky’s gaze softens like he can read his mind, and he comes down for a heartfelt kiss, curling his tongue in a way that he knows sends a quiver right down his spine. “It went just fine, Steve,” he smiles against his lips, and Steve never thought _just fine_ could sound like the best two words he’s ever heard. 

Steve hums in contentment, letting himself fill up with all the love he has for Bucky, the happiness that just this moment brings him. As long as he’s got Bucky, he thinks he’ll be okay.

“Now, are you ever going to tell me where we’re eating tonight? You usually feed me so often I never even get a second to wonder about what I get to eat.” He pulls Steve up by the arms, kissing his chin when it’s at eye level. Steve thinks it’s adorable when he does that. 

“Well, it’s a surprise, but I’ve kept it secret long enough,” he allows, and Bucky nods like he agrees wholeheartedly. “Is there anywhere you really wanna go? If you could choose, out of all the restaurants in the city, regardless of availability, where would you go?”

Bucky narrows his eyes, because he knows his answer, but he also knows it’s impossible. The earliest availability they found was three months away, even after Bucky used Steve’s name. They booked the date anyway, because Bucky said he’d wait however long to get to eat there, but getting to go tonight would be something else. 

“Did you- I am gonna smack you so hard if you’re messing with me.” Steve nods, goofy grin on his face, because making the man in his arms happy is his favorite pastime. Bucky squeals and kisses him quick, then hugs him so tightly even Steve’s having a hard time breathing. “Well,” he drops back onto his heels. “I’ve got a surprise for you too.” 

Steve quirks an eyebrow, and Bucky grabs ahold of his hands, moving them from either side of his waist to dip in between his shirt and waistband. He feels a silky texture and what is unmistakably lace, his mouth going dry and eyes flicking down to where he’s touching. Bucky’s eyes gleam, lips pulled into a coy smile. “God, I love you,” he groans, going for a biting kiss. 

Bucky laughs, but gives in without protest. Steve already knows it’s going to be an unforgettable night, every part of it, from the food and getting to hear from the chef herself, to showing Bucky how much he loves him without words when they get home. 

He’s right - it’s a spectacular night.

▽

◆

Bucky watches Steve sleep, face illuminated, peaceful without the burden of the waking day. He’s got barely visible laugh lines around his eyes, even when his face is slack. His beard is just on this side of unruly as it is every morning, and his nose is as crooked as ever. 

He never thought he could be so happy just watching someone breathe, would probably think it was creepy to stare for so long, but he’s proven wrong when he shares a bed with Steve. Not just a bed, but a life. A wonderful, fulfilling life, where their friends are loving and loyal, and they’ve got family always with open arms, whether it be the few relatives left or the group of people they’d go to bat for.

It’s a life Bucky would fight for to keep, where they try their best to do what’s right, building a community that looks out for each other, and they make mistakes that’s got grievous consequences. They try their best anyway, navigating each day with hope and with each other, knowing exactly who has their back, and that they’re in love. 

Bucky’s never been in so much fucking love. He watches as the morning fully dawns on them, sheets warming up from the sunshine, art on the walls coming into the light to pummel him with feelings when he catches sight of Steve’s creations. 

Steve snuffles, automatically reaching out to pull Bucky in even with his eyes still closed, humming as he strokes down his bare back. Bucky’s already breaking into a broad smile before Steve fully wakes up, slowly fighting his way through the haze of sleep. 

The man melts at the sight of him, Bucky now well acquainted with how much Steve loves him. Steve comes in for a gentle kiss as he does every day, holding him as close as humanly possible. Bucky can never get enough of this, or the way Steve always kicks his day off with a warm, loving, “Mornin’, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it, everybody. Hope you had a nice time while you were here. You can even tell me all about the kind of time you’ve been having at _Up Close and Personal_ , because you know I always want those thoughts.
> 
>   * It took everything in me not to make a Radiohead joke when Bucky was talking about Steve’s internal radio. Get it? Radio head? Radiohead? Music? No? Alright.
>   * Sam fulfills his dream of sailing with his friends. Good for him. The ending he deserves.
>   * For those of you worried about a Bucky kidnapping, fear not, I’m not a huge fan of writing that kind of plot, so we’re in the clear.
> 

> 
> As you may have noticed, this work is now part of series. **I’ve got a short sequel finished so if you’re interested, go check out[ _A Blessing I Ain't Tryna Lose_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665834).**
> 
> Thanks for giving this story a shot and sticking with it all the way to the end! I really appreciate everyone giving this a read, and finding some enjoyment out of it. I was just messing around writing off a prompt and got so excited to share with anyone who might be interested.
> 
> Thanks all, and please do give the next installment a read if that interests you!


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